Look After You
by Bleu
Summary: Finished, at last [Chapters 7 & 8 added]. A sequel to [A Rush of Blood to the Head]: A continuation of a quite chimerical storyline in which Derek and Addison had a child earlier in their marriage. Bailey, Meredith, and Mark are there, too. Enjoy!
1. If I Don't Say This Now

_Okay, so a little back story is necessary here, I feel._

_This story is a sequel to a previous story I wrote, "A Rush of Blood to the Head."_

_You can find that in my profile._

_My idea here is, I'm writing in a very unrealistic arena in which Derek and Addison had a daughter, Sadie, very early in their marriage, and none of the messiness with Mark ever happened, so they're still in New York, for better and worse._

_Everything is the same for the rest of the cast in Seattle, with a few minor differences, mostly to make up for the absence of the Drs. McDreamy._

_I'd recommend reading "A Rush of Blood to the Head" if you really want a solid background, but I'll try to make this as independent as I can._

_As for a ship, well, "A Rush of Blood to the Head" was Addek, definitely, and I figure this one will be too. Haven't decided what other ones I would like to incorporate, yet._

_So that's it. Read, enjoy, and review. Thanks!_

* * *

"**Look After You"**

**by Bleu**

* * *

"Dr. Bailey!" 

_I just…_

"Dr. Bailey!"

…_need…_

"Dr. Bailey!"

…_a…_

"Dr. Bailey, are you in there?"

…_minute._

The on-call room door banged open, nearly smashing Isobel Stevens in the face. She stumbled back a step as the very tired, very frazzled, and very unhappy Miranda Bailey faced her in the doorway, her eyes cloudy as she struggled to bring herself back completely from her brief dip in slumber.

"Sorry," she murmured offhandedly, rubbing her eyes quickly. "What is it, Izzie?"

Not noticing the resident's exhaustion, Izzie hurriedly flipped through the weighty medical chart in her hands, taking less than a second between pages to tap her finger on her tongue to hasten the action. Her smile was irrepressible.

"Two things, really," She began excitedly, but instead of awakening the usual surge of adrenaline that accompanied the potentiality of a cool surgery, all the intern's enthusiasm did was remind Miranda just how drained she was, and how hard it was becoming to keep her eyes open.

"…first, the Hanson case, the heart transplant that Dr. Burke scheduled for today, well, he needs an intern and he asked me to scrub in, but only if you said I could because I told him about the Ershler twins—,"

"It's fine, Izzie. Scrub in with Dr. Burke." Miranda informed her with what she hoped was an authoritative nod and gesture with her left hand. Izzie blinked, baffled by the ease at which her boss allowed her from her previously assigned case to such a high profile one. Not inclined to argue and threaten this permission, Izzie smiled and straightened.

"Thank you, Dr. Bailey, for having such faith—,"

"You said two things?" Miranda expelled harshly, leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh, um, yeah…Chief Webber was looking for you before."

With that, Miranda's entire body went rigid.

"When? For what? Where did you tell him I was?" she asked urgently, more out of worry than actual hurry, straightening and smoothing her scrubs unconsciously. Izzie bit her lip and frowned towards the main surgical lobby.

"Uh, I guess it was about ten minutes ago, by the board. I told him you were probably asleep because you had mentioned that your son was teething—,"

Before Izzie could finish the sentiment, Miranda waved an impatient hand and took off.

"Thanks, Stevens!" She snapped over her shoulder. Izzie raised her eyebrows, took a moment, and then shrugged, walking off to her surgery.

* * *

Making a mental note to remember to reassign the—_wait, what case was it Stevens had just said she was transferring from? Damn. Something with twins._

As Miranda reached the surgical assignment board, she caught the name, scrawled in red dry-erasable marker. Ershler.

_Reassign Ershler twins to O'Malley, or Grey._ Whoever crossed her path first.

As she turned from the board and scanned the crowd of doctors on the floor, Miranda gnawed on the inside of her lip.

Will had been teething. Last night, the night before, the night before that, almost a week now. She and Tucker hadn't slept more than two of three consecutive hours, since.

But she was still a doctor. A capable, talented doctor. She could do her job.

She was not going soft. She knew that.

Unfortunately, she had been getting a very distinct feeling of late that her male counterparts and superiors did not feel the same way.

But she would show them, prove them wrong, because she knew she was capable

They didn't call her the Nazi for nothing.

Deciding the Chief must be back in his office, Miranda started for the stairs when she literally crashed into George O'Malley as he headed down the stairs, staring intently at his pager.

"Oh, sorry, Dr. Bailey!" he apologized sincerely, even putting a supportive hand on her shoulder to steady her. Still startled and not entirely alert but not wanting him to notice, she batted his hand away.

"Enough touchy-feely, O'Malley. I need you to take a case—,"

_Damn it! _She forgot the name of the case Stevens had given up, again.

_The twins…a male and a female, two weeks old, six weeks premature…redhead for a mother, tall gangly blond father…_

"You mean the Ershler twins, that Izzie was working on before she got pulled by Dr. Burke?" George asked dejectedly, obviously envious over the much more prestigious surgery that he had not been assigned. Miranda nodded quickly, as if she had said the words herself.

"Yes. Get on that. Prep the little boy for MRI in neuro, and test the little girl's iron levels again."

"You mean prep the little girl for an MRI and test the little boy's iron levels?" he asked confusedly. She pursed her lips.

"Yes! And after that, check the monitor on the little…boy's heart every half hour. And call neuro and make sure that little girl gets into surgery today!" She barked these orders at him, bounding up the stairs as she did so, not even bothering to look and see if he obeyed, because she knew he would.

She was Miranda Bailey, the Nazi. Talented, capable, tough. People listened to her.

She hoped so.

* * *

"Mom?" 

_I just…_

"Mom, where are you?"

…_need…_

"Mom?"

…_a…_

"Mom!"

…_minute._

As she acknowledged the fast, closely-set footfalls of her ten-year-old daughter on the hardwood floor, approaching the master bathroom where she was currently cloistered, Addison Shepherd hauled herself to her feet, swished some antiseptic-strong mouthwash cruelly across her gums, spit it out into the deep crater of a sink, and opened the door to the bathroom just as her daughter Sadie came to a screeching halt before it.

"Mom! Mrs. MacLeod just called and said ballet is cancelled tonight. That means after school I have nowhere to go." Sadie informed her matter-of-factly, crossing her arms over the starchy white shirt required as part of her school uniform. Addison rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth and sighed.

"How about going over to Kendall's until I'm done?" she offered sleepily. Sadie shook her head, causing the light to shimmy through the long dark hair that fell on her shoulders and curled ever-so-slightly at the ends.

"Kendall is in the Hamptons with her Dad for Thanksgiving break." Sadie returned in respect to her best friend. Addison ran a distracted hand through her hair, and moved past her daughter, who followed close behind.

"Well then you know what that means!" Addison replied, entering her bedroom and nearly tripping over a pair of Chanel sling backs. She cursed lightly, sheepishly eyed her daughter, then picked up the shoes and chucked them so they landed right below the dresser. As she made her way to the wide-mouthed doors of the massive closet, Sadie went to the fallen heels.

"That's no way to treat Chanel. Plus, last time you put your silver Manolo flats with the pointy toes here, Dad stepped on them and cut his foot." She remarked, picking up her mother's shoes adoringly and placing them in a safer place. Addison didn't turn around.

"Your father is clumsy." She muttered, not particularly to anyone. Sadie rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips.

"I don't want to go to Becky's house." She asserted as much as she could, with a touch of whiny as she emphasized the last word. Addison emerged with a black silk skirt and white camisole on as opposed to her previous terry cloth robe, looking a bit more like her professional self. She hoped it would help her feel a bit more like her professional self, too, instead of just a fatigued, nauseaus woman. She slid a pearl stud into either ear after collecting them from the bedside table.

"Sadie, I know you don't want to go to Becky's house. You never want to go to Becky's house, and you never let me forget that. But you're still too young to be home alone!" Addison said exasperatingly as she slid a blue button-up shirt that had been in a drycleaning bag on the closet door over her shoulders. Sadie's face collapsed into a pout.

"Why can't I just come to the hospital? The car could take me right to the front steps! I'll just sit in your office and read or something!" she pleaded.

Addison fumbled with the buttons on her shirt in front of her vanity, and looked at her daughter through the reflection in the three-way mirrors.

"_No_, Sadie. The hospital is not a place for you, and we only use it when we have no other option."

"We _have_ no other—,"

"Yes we do! You can go to Becky Meyers's house until I finish my surgery, which will be at eight o'clock." Addison replied firmly, arching an eyebrow to warn her daughter against further argument.

A tense moment passed as Sadie pressed her lips together, broken only when Derek Shepherd stumbled into the room.

"Hello, ladies." He mumbled, scrubbing his face with his hands. He gave Sadie a paternal kiss on the forehead and his wife a loving kiss on the cheek en route to the mussed king-sized bed, where he collapsed fully clothed.

"Hi, Dad." Sadie murmured, intermittently pouting and glaring at Addison in unspoken strife. Addison scooped her hair into a clip, ignoring her daughter's accusatory stares.

"How did the craniotomy go?" she asked Derek, now tugging at the shirt, hoping the fact that it was a little tighter than it used to be wouldn't be apparent to anyone but her.

Derek sat up slowly, and began removing his shoes.

"Rocky start, lost him twice on the table, and it was hard getting him back. Eventually cleaned up, and got out about two hours ago. I could only close him three quarters of the way, from all the swelling. I'll have to go back in later tonight." He relayed for his wife, who nodded understandingly. Sadie edged over and sat next to him.

"What time tonight?" she asked innocently, picking at the Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed. Derek removed his watch and paused.

"I don't know, at the very least I need to give him twelve hours."

"That's eight o'clock tonight, right?" Sadie continued, shifting her eyes to Addison, who rolled hers.

"Yeah, about then, why?" he asked, looking between them.

"My ballet was cancelled, and Kendall is in the Hamptons, so Mom is going to make me go to Becky Meyers's house until she finishes her surgery, which is over at eight, but I don't want to, so could you pick me up at school instead and watch me until you have to go in and then Mom can watch me?" Sadie asked hurriedly, her words so rushed they fell quite ungracefully atop each other.

Derek blinked, smiled, and nodded.

"Sure, I will. I'll come get you when school is out." He assured her, kissing her forehead again. Sadie bounced with delight, and Addison sighed.

"Are you sure you can though? What if your craniotomy starts to bleed or the swelling goes down sooner?" she asked, crossing the room in front of them to collect the shoes she had tossed before to slip onto her feet.

"It'll be fine, Addie." Derek assured her easily, as Sadie got up from the bed and bounced happily between them. Addison fit the shoes on her feet, and stood, smoothing her outfit.

"Are you sure, Derek? I definitely won't be out of there before eight." She emphasized, placing her hands on her hips, imploring more seriousness from her husband than he was giving, as he laughed at Sadie, who he had ensnared and was tickling.

"Addie, relax!" he returned, laughing again as Sadie squealed with delight in his arms. "Everything will be fine!"

Addison sighed.

She hoped so.

* * *

**There we go. The typical foundation-building first chapter. Hope it was enjoyable, even if a little dry? I'm going somewhere with this, I promise. Things should start falling into place in the next chapter. Connections, and whatnot. _Stick with me! _Thanks so much.**


	2. I Will Surely Break

"—Chief?" Miranda tentatively leaned into Richard Webber's office.

The man himself was seated behind his desk, enthralled in some paperwork, and speaking to someone authoritatively on the phone. He gave her a nod and vague gesture inward.

"Miranda! Come in, have a seat, I'll just be a minute."

Miranda had sat in the very seat she was now seated in many times before, but this time, as she silently waiting for Webber to end his telephone conversation, she felt her heart beating very clearly. When he finally did place the phone back in the holder and turn to her with his arms crossed over his chest, she swallowed thickly.

_You're acting like a child. _She admonished herself inwardly.

"How are you feeling, Miranda?" he asked slowly, his eyes narrowed on hers.

"I'm fine. Perfect. Never better." She assured him with a smile and a shoulder roll.

"I was told you were asleep, before, when I was looking for you. Are you fatigued?" He asked, concern showing.

To which she replied, "No more than I ever am." _You probably could have phrased that better._

"Even with the baby?"

Miranda hoped the color she felt rise in her cheeks wasn't showing. "My husband helps, sir. And I sleep when I can. When you were asking for me, I wasn't slacking off, I was between cases…" Sensing her offense, Webber held up a solicitous palm.

"Miranda, you don't have to defend yourself to me. I have no doubt in your abilities. I was just asking…as a friend."

Somehow, she doubted that was it. But he probably believed it, so she just nodded and kept her mouth shut. He continued moments later.

"The reason I wanted to talk to you was something entirely different. You're aware the Keller-Butler Seminar is in New York City this weekend?"  
"Yes, sir, of course! I attended last year." She affirmed, excitement blossoming in her chest. If Webber sent her again, he obviously didn't doubt her abilities. The Keller-Butler Seminar was the figurative Superbowl of medicine. She schooled her features as he spoke.

"Well, Seattle Grace always has a presence there, usually just one resident, and because of the continuing progress your team has made this past year, I was thinking this year—,"

"—Dr. Webber?" his secretary popped her curly head into the doorway.

"Yes, Jamie?"

"Dr. Meredith Grey is here, she said you called for her?"

"Oh, well, just give me a moment." Webber said with another vague hand motion.

"Yes, sir."

Miranda watched Jamie leave, wondering why the Chief was pulling her interns in for private chat sessions. When he began to speak again she returned her attention to him.

"As I was saying, I was wondering if—," he trailed off, and her excitement led her to finish for him.

"If you're wondering if I can go, even though I have a baby, let me assure you, Chief, I can! My husband doesn't work weekends so he can watch my son, it won't be a problem at all." She pledged.

"Oh, actually…actually Miranda, I was going to ask your opinion." Webber looked suddenly uncomfortable, and Miranda's stomach sank.

"…Oh?" She managed, her mouth forming the shape of the letter.

"You see, I was already thinking of sending Dr. Guthrie as Seattle Grace's representative this year…but I also decided that it would be an excellent experience for an intern, and I thought I would send one of yours."

"Oh." She replied flatly, feeling herself actually deflate, and wondering if he could see it.

"I was thinking, because of her affinity for neurosurgery and our need for the growth of that department, of Meredith Grey for the position. I wanted to know what you thought of that decision." Webber continued, obviously not very aware of her disappointment.

"Dr. Grey? She…she is very talented. She works very hard." Miranda said, because it was true. She wasn't about to let her personal feelings cloud what she said. Grey was her best intern—she had to focus on that.

"I've noticed. She puts in a lot of hours, and she does great work. And you recommend her?"

"Yes, sir." Miranda nodded emphatically, her composure returned. "Meredith Grey is a marvelous intern. She would represent us well."

"Excellent." He said with a nod, but not a smile.

"Is that all?" she asked, wanting to be out of the office more than anything.

"Uh, well, I thought maybe you could stay when I tell her, so she knows—,"

"If you don't mind sir, I think the news will be just as good coming from you. I have…patients." Miranda stood, steadily, she hoped.

"All right, I understand."

"…Chief? Can I just ask one potentially unprofessional question? Why…why didn't you want me to go again this year?"

"Well, I know you went to the Keller-Butler last year, and I was thinking of you for the position again this year, but I just…I just don't want to add to your stress right now. Do you understand?"

"I understand, sir, that _you_ don't understand that even though I may have a child now, I'm the same doctor I was then."

"This wasn't an attack on your abilities, Miranda. I believe in you, and you would represent us well." Webber defended, his face stern.

"But I'm not going to." She stated, and when he didn't rebuke it, she simply nodded and said, "Okay."

"Wait! Miranda, wait." Webber said, just as she reached the door. She paused, and turned obediently, her face blank.

"Go to the Keller-Butler."

"With all due respect, I don't want this position, sir, out of pity."

"You aren't getting it as one. Seattle Grace would be lucky to have someone like you representing us." He said sincerely.

"Thank you, sir. You won't be disappointed."

"All right." He turned to his intercom, "Jamie, send Dr. Grey in."

* * *

"You look like a woman in need of some juju."

"I don't need juju." Addison replied, not moving any body part except her lips. "I need the power of invisibility."

"Well, until I conquer molecular astrophysics, you'll have to settle for cocoa." Mark Sloane replied, tapping her shoulder and slowly swirling the paper cup, letting the teasing aroma of sugar and chocolate draw her head up from its cradle in her arms, which were folded over a massive medical journal.

"It's Starbucks!" she said after a moment, with a horrible sneer.

"How the hell did you know? I specifically put it in an unmarked cup!"

"I can smell the commercialism."

"Oh, well, in that case…" he made a motion to withdraw the offer, but her hand darted out and grabbed it.

"Thanks. Really. I guess I'll sell out, for the sake of the woman who's C-section I'm performing in…what time is it?"  
"Six." He replied, lazily tossing his body onto the couch across from the desk Addison occupied.

"…thirty minutes." She said with a glower. She tipped her head back and let the steamy cocoa fill her almost painfully, blazing a scorching path down to her abdomen.

"Slow down, there, Killer. That stuff is scalding." Mark remarked.

"I need a jolt, or something."

"I'd go with 'or something.' What's wrong, Addie?" Mark asked, leaning forward.

"Nothing." _Everything. _Even though it was Mark, her friend, and in the doctor's lounge they were out from the danger of prying ears, she just wasn't ready to talk. Not yet.

"You haven't been you for a couple weeks now." He observed, keeping his tone easy. But she wasn't fooled. People often thought he was callous—and he was. But it was almost part of his way of making you open up, by making whatever "it" was seem almost inconsequential. She marveled at it still, even after knowing him for more than a decade.

"It's just been a stressful few weeks. Nothing else. It'll pass." She said, picking up a page of the journal and flipping it, hoping she sounded dismissive.

"If you say so. Want to get drunk tonight?" he asked in the same breath.

"Uh, no." she rolled her eyes, but a smile escaped.

"All right, fine. Condemn me to the shameful life of a lone boozehound." He feigned dismal lament as he leaned back on the couch.

"I would, except I know you've never been ashamed or alone for very long." She returned sassily.

"Touché."

A few blessed moments of silence passed while Addison regrouped.

"I should make sure my patient is prepped. I have a single intern to help me juggle the largest neonatal department on the East coast, and half the time, I don't think she's listening when I talk. All she does is ask questions." She said with a scowl. "I give her an answer, and then she scribbles meaningfully in her notebook, and asks the same question five minutes later! She's either a human sieve or just thinks she already knows everything." Her voice got edgier and edgier, and Mark raised his eyebrows as he stood.

"Then, she questions me in surgery. 'That's not the way I saw it done in this class with this teacher when I was in med school.' God, can you imagine the nerve?" she was flushing red a bit, and as she slung her bag over her shoulder and opened the door to leave, Mark followed.

"I'll walk you. Protect you from any nagging, know-it-all interns…and protect them from you." He added the last bit under his breath. Addison heard it, and gave him a cursory glare.

"I don't need a babysitter." She snapped, suddenly very irritated with him.

"I'm not saying you do. I'm saying I enjoy your pleasant company enough."

She was about to say something equally sarcastic as they got to the nurse's station and she grabbed a chart when one of the receptionists quickly approached the two of them from behind the counter.

"Dr. Shepherd! I've been looking for you!" the young woman, who Addison identified as Holly Carlisle and Mark identified as The Girl from Last Year's Christmas Party.

"What is it, Holly?" Addison asked, while Mark pretended to be very fascinated by his cocoa. It didn't matter; Holly was taking the high road and pretending he didn't exist.

"Well, um…" Holly walked around the counter to their side, and by the hand she had Sadie.

Addison's face twisted in confusion.

"Sadie, honey, what are you doing here? Where's your father?"

"I don't know." The little girl said quietly. Addison nodded at Holly and took Sadie's hand.

"Honey, did he pick you up from school?" Addison asked, but as she looked at her daughter, still in uniform with her backpack on her back, she could have guessed at the answer.

"No, he didn't." Sadie said, even softer, obviously trying not to cry.

"What…what happened?" Addison asked gently, pulling her daughter closer so she could put her hands on the sides of her face.

"I don't _know, _Mom. Dad said he was going to pick me up and he _didn't._" She finally let a tear slide from her eye, but it didn't fall, only clung to her lash. Addison grabbed a tissue to swipe at it, and as if on cue, Derek emerged from a nearby exam room. Through clenched teeth, Addison nearly growled his name, "Derek!"

Of course, he looked up from his chart in a flourish of well-manicured hair and blue eyes, and smiled at his wife.

"Hey, Addie." He greeted easily. She straightened, but held onto Sadie's hand. Derek looked from his wife to his daughter and then back again to evaluate their expressions, upon which he realized he was in trouble, somehow.

"What's wrong?" he asked slowly. Mark made a swift move towards Sadie.

"Hey, Peanut, uh, why don't we get you something awful to eat to ruin your dinner?" he asked gently, delicately taking the little girl's tiny hand in his own. She sniffled a bit, but shook her head.

"I'm not hungry."

"Then I'll just give you an introductory lesson on plastic surgery. Your mom or dad ever show you a Sagittal Saw?"

This peaked her curiosity. "No."

"Well, it's a lucky thing you have me, kid."

With that and a crooked smile, he tugged on her hand and led her away as Derek and Addison stood toe-to-toe at the nurse's station.

"You _forgot?_" Addison hissed at him.

"No, of course I didn't _forget! _I called you and left a message!" he countered. She snorted.

"Of course you did. You called and left it and never gave it a second thought. Just like everything else, outside of the operating room, anyway." she snapped, suddenly lightheaded. Derek scanned the room around them.

"Addison, calm down. We're not having this conversation here."

"Fine." She spun on her heel and strode angrily back into the lounge, while Derek followed close behind.

But as soon as the door closed behind Derek, her anger had completely evaporated

By the time he made it over to where she was leaning against the desk, she was in tears.

"Whoa, Addison, what is this?" he asked softly, gently placing his hands on her hips and turning her slowly to face him.

"Derek did you _see _how upset she was?" Addison demanded as tears glittering on her skin.

"Yes, and I felt awful, and we'll make it up to her. We already are, a little bit. Didn't you hear? She's playing with Mark's saws!" he teased softly, coaxing a small, brief smile.

She was too tired to support the flames of her temper.

"Oh, Derek. It's not just that. I mean, it is. But…"

"But what?"

"But…isn't this familiar?" she demanded gesturing around them. Derek raised his eyebrows and looked around the lounge.

"Uh, if you could be just a little more specific..."

"_This._" She repeated the motion. "Us, doing this kind of thing. Not just to Sadie, but to each other. Isn't this familiar at all to you?"

Derek, still with his hands on her hips, pulled her closer so that their noses were practically touching.

"No, Addison. I know what you're saying and _no. _We're not back at that place—we won't be. Don't even think it." He informed her gravely. "We've worked on so much, we've come so far, and we're never going to be back there." She nodded slowly.

"I know. I do. I know. But I just…I'm just…" She wanted to tell him, but she didn't know the words she wanted, the words she needed.

"What? What are you? What's going on that you're not telling me?" He moved his hands from her hips to the sides of her face, framing it and forcing her to look at him.

"Nothing! I'm _not_…I'm not _not_ telling you anything. I'm just…I'm tired."

He nodded, running his thumb along her jaw.

"Okay, so, maybe you should take a day or two off. It's been a rough couple of weeks."

"Not, it's not the I-just-need-a-nap tired, Derek. It's like my body is just worn out. I'm…worn out."

"Do you want to talk to someone?" he asked, worry filling his eyes.

"No, no. I don't think it's anything like that. I just…" she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. With each moment that passed that she didn't speak, the concern that blossomed in his eyes and mapped across his face spread, and she suddenly felt foolish.

"It's nothing. I can't…it's nothing." She finished softly.

He pulled her into a hug, and when her face was securely buried in the crook between his shoulder and head, she let the tears fall.

"Whenever you can tell me, Addie, I'll be here." He whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And that was why she couldn't tell him. Not yet.

* * *

"New York City? With Bailey?" Izzie was practically bouncing with excitement as she gnawed on an icing-drenched granola bar with the resolve of a woodland creature, a graceful posture she would only dare to display in the company of her best friends.

"Not vacation, Izzie, _work. _A medical seminar." She corrected with a chuckle, carefully removing her bulging Greek wrap from its flimsy container and examining it for the best point of entry.

"Not just a medical seminar! _Keller-Butler _is not just a medical seminar. It's the freaking Oscars of medical seminars." Cristina managed, barely, over a mouthful of hot dog.

"I'll bring you back a tee shirt." Meredith smirked at her.

"Gee, thanks." Cristina replied, dousing the remaining quarter of her hotdog with mustard.

"Do you think, like, famous people will be there?" Izzie asked, moving from the granola bar to a peach.

"Oh, yeah. I think I heard someone say George Clooney likes to make an appearance." Meredith teased, only to be surprised when Izzie's eyes widened and she asked, "Really?"

"Yes, because since he's a doctor on television they figure that counts for something." Cristina said with an eye roll as she took two pulls from the straw in her soda.

"_Wait, _you were kidding, weren't you?"

"Yes!" they both exclaimed simultaneously. Izzie scowled at them and went back to working on the peach.

"The two of you think you're _so funny._"she muttered.

"Are you nervous? About like…being with Bailey? All the time?" Cristina asked.

"As opposed to now, when I _don't_ see her every day?" Meredith countered with a shrug.

"Oh. Right."

"When do you leave?" Izzie asked brightly as she disrobed a banana.

"Tomorrow afternoon. There's apparently some social gatherings beforehand—Chief says they're a good way for me to make connections." Meredith settled on the Southwest corner of her wrap was the least volatile spot to begin eating, but was proven incorrect in that assessment after she took a bite and a cascade of black olives rushed onto her plate.

"That's so cool—Chief, giving you advice, sending you on fancy transcontinental trips…I guess I should be jealous." Izzie mused, plucking chunks of her banana off and popping them in her mouth.

"We should all be jealous. Hell, there are probably attendings here who are jealous." Cristina remarked, finally finished with the hot dog and leaning back on her chair.

"You guys, it's not a big deal." Meredith assured them in between bites.

"Just the fact that you say that deems you as unworthy." Cristina said with disdain.

"Unworthy or no, she has bags to pack. Dr. Grey, after you finish the labs for the Cullen case, go home. You've been here almost 36 hours, our plane leaves at 8 am tomorrow, and I want you more than just coherent for the events." Miranda demanded, seemingly materializing spontaneously from nowhere and startling Izzie so she choked on her banana.

"I thought Chief had us on an afternoon flight?" Meredith asked, bewildered, hands and mouth full of tomatoes, olives, feta cheese, and hummus.

"Afternoon flights are for lazy people, Grey, undedicated people. We are not lazy or undedicated, are we?" Miranda asked pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Right." Meredith affirmed, swiping at some feta on her chin.

"This is a learning experience, not a cocktail party."

"Right." Swipe. More feta.

"Good. Then 8 am it is." As quickly as she appeared, Miranda was gone.

"Right. Yes. Great." Meredith murmured.

The three women exchanged shocked glances before Cristina said,

"Have fun with that at 10,000 feet."

* * *

**I don't know how I feel about this chapter. It serves mostly, I guess, to draw connections and set the mood better. Eh. More exciting stuff is to come.**

**I refuse to write Mark according to canon. I don't like Shonda's Mark. I told her she could borrow mine…**

**Some Addek angst here, but only moderate. It's going to get worse before it gets better, but it _will_ get better. Because fluff is fun, especially Addek fluff.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Review if you'd like. _Stay tuned!_**


	3. Forgive the Urgency, but Hurry Up

"Two pairs."

"Sorry, Dad: four of a kind." Sadie apologized with a remarkable lack of apology in her voice, laying the four one-eyed jacks on the carpet before her, on proud display for Derek.

The late afternoon, waning sunlight sprinkled itself on the plush carpeting of the living room in their brownstone as it struggled against the dusk. The foliage right outside the wide bay window was a vibrant red and orange kaleidoscope, and the flood of sunlight seemed to set it ablaze. The sky was piercingly blue, and clouds within it were weightless. This, plus the fact it was Friday, made it the perfect day to leave work early, so he and Addison had, then picked Sadie up from school and went at home for a night in.

From his reclined position on the carpet across from her, Derek jerked forward and scowled with a suspicious curl to his lip.

"I've been had! That's the third time you've had that!" he exclaimed, pointing accusingly at her. She shrugged easily enough, but there was a definite smile in her voice when she said, "It's all in the cards!"

"I don't think so." He contended, sitting up and collecting the upturned cards. "Mark showed you a cheat or something!"

"No, Dad, jeez." Sadie rolled her eyes and raked in her deserved chips. After they were securely on her side, she looked up at him with a devilish glint in her eyes. "It was Mom."

"What?" Derek exclaimed with astonishment, and then called, "Addison!"

She had been in the kitchen, which was in the back of the brownstone, and must have still been in the middle of something, because she only responded by yelling distractedly, "What is it?"

"You taught Sadie how to cheat at poker!" Derek very nearly whined, but smiled at his daughter. A few moments later, Addison materialized in the door way holding a plate of chips and salsa with the exact same devilish smile and glint in her eyes teasing him that had been in Sadie's eyes moments before. She leaned against the doorframe and shrugged.

"Taught is a strong word. I…offered her some tips."

"Cheating is not a condoned practice in this house! What are you teaching our child?" he demanded, still more amused than angry but putting on a good front of the morally appalled father, as Sadie was giggling crazily beside him.

"What about that time you showed me how to cover up a scratch on Mom's shoe with a sharpie?" she managed to ask amidst her laughter. Derek's eyes shot right over to Sadie and his mouth tightened in a terrified line, while Addison's eyes widened about three inches in diameter as she glared at her husband.

"Yes, Derek, what about that time?" she demanded, straightening and putting a hand on her hip.

"Sadie, I think you're short a few chips…" Derek said slowly, pushing a pile of valuable chips over to her side. An easy purchase, Sadie accepted them quickly.

"Derek!" Addison nearly screeched. "What pair was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Addison. Do you, Sadie?" he glared warningly at her, and she shrugged innocently.

"Nope."

"Oh no," Addison said teasingly through gritted teeth, "It's too late for that!"

In a movement that should have been impossible given her pencil-cut skirt, Addison deftly dropped down to her knees on the carpet, grabbed her daughter in an inescapable embrace, and began tickling her mercilessly, until the little girl was breathless.

"Okay, okay, it was the black Jimmy Choos with the peep toes!" She cried through her hysterical laughing, rolling with relief from Addison's arms. Addison whipped her head to a laughing Derek, her mouth agape, and she hurled at him the nearest thing to her hand—a beaded pillow. He dodged it, and laughed even harder.

"Oh, cheating at poker is immoral, but teaching your child to cover her tracks and then take bribes for her silence, that's building good moral presence." She said as she crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow at him.

"Oh don't be so upset, you probably don't even know where those shoes are right now!"

"Sure I do. Rack 3, seventh from the left." Derek shook his head when she rattled the numbers off precisely.

"There is a line between hobby and addiction, Addison, and I think you've crossed it with those things!" With that he grabbed her outstretched ankle and dragged her closer. She giggled foolishly when he pressed his lips to hers. Sadie, sprawled out across the carpet across the room, sat up quickly, her eyes bright with excitement.

"I want to go to the park and feed the ducks. Can we please? They'll be gone soon for the winter! And it's not actually dark yet!"

Both of the Shepherds regarded the outdoors for a moment, but the excitement in Sadie's voice won them over. Central Park was only a few blocks away, anyway.

"Okay, honey, go upstairs and get your jacket. It's chilly." Addison instructed her, and before she finished Sadie was on her feet bounding past them and up the stairs to her bedroom. After a beat, Derek asked,

"Do you think I'm forgiven?"

Addison curled closer to him and fit herself against his side so they both say on the carpet with their backs against the sofa.

"Derek, relax. Your status as Superhero has been restored, I think." She assured him, tucking an errant strand of dark hair back with the rest of its kin, and let her hand linger in his hair.

"How about with you?" He asked, letting his forehead rest against hers so he could look into her eyes. She smiled sweetly.

"Well, you know how I feel about Batman. He's my favorite Superhero."

Derek snorted. "What if I got a mask?"

"That would help. You still don't have George Clooney's chin, though." She observed without any seriousness, running her finger along his face.

"Ouch!" he mimicked pain, but pressed his lips against hers for a kiss that began chaste, escalated sweetly when he wound a hand around her hip, but diffused sweetly when she pulled away very slightly.

"I'm ready to talk." She whispered, still essentially kissing him, as her mouth was barely a whisper from his.

"Okay. Now?"

"It doesn't have to be now, but—," she was cut off abruptly by a sudden, profound, deafening...smash. The profundity indicated something massive, from somewhere outdoors.

Memories of a similar beautiful fall day from a few years before flooding both of their minds immediately, they both sprang up from the floor and ran to the window.

"What was that?" Derek asked, terror deadening his voice as they both stared down towards the business district.

"Mom, Dad, something's on fire over there, look!" Sadie cried from the top of the stairs, where she pointed Eastward out of the front window. No flames were visible, but a huge column of smoke plumed ominously up over the buildings. She, like her parents, also had some memories of September 11th, 2001, but she had been very young at the time. Not so young, however, that she didn't cling to her father when he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. The three of them stood in silence for a long moment, hearts racing, when a pager exploded from the kitchen. Only moments later, a second one followed.

After swallowing audibly, Derek turned to Addison.

"The bat signal."

* * *

"Which hotel, exactly, did the papers say?" Meredith asked as she puffed for air. The six-hour flight had rendered her body nearly entropic, and now she was fighting the pulsating New York City sidewalk traffic with not only her luggage, but Miranda's as well. She imagined she looked pretty ridiculous, but didn't care. She just wanted to put them _down_.

"Jolly Madison." Miranda replied from a few feet in front of her, not even deigning to turn around to say so. Instead, she broke into a jog, which Meredith mirrored, only more clumsily, and almost died via taxi in the process. After catching her breath during a brief moment when a slow-walking elderly man deterred Miranda's determined progress, Meredith asked hopefully, "Are we close?"

"Are you complaining, Grey?" Miranda asked, now deciding to turn.

"No, Dr. Bailey, I just…" Meredith chewed her lip. They had only been together eight hours. There were a long two days ahead of them if she angered her now.

"You're just complaining." Miranda supplied hostilely. Meredith's mouth dropped open a bit.

"Look, Dr. Bailey, I might just be misreading you, but are you angry at me, for something?" she asked slowly, hurt in her voice. Bailey sighed begrudgingly as she looked at Meredith Grey.

_What happened to not letting your personal problems affect your work?_

It wasn't Meredith's fault the Chief sent her to, in effect, baby sit Miranda. In fact, the intern probably didn't even realize it. She just thought she was on a business trip—she didn't have any other motives. But still, Miranda had been giving her a hard time the entire while. Finally, she shook her head.

"…No." She shuffled to the side, out of the flow of bodies, giving Meredith a chance to follow her and set a few bags down.

"This...this…this is more than just a cool seminar. For me." She said aloud, her desperation evident. Meredith nodded.

"I figured as much." She shifted her weight. "I didn't mean to…"

"It's not you, Grey. I'm sorry if it seems that way—what was that?" The throng of bodies around them came to a momentary standstill as every person stared North, at an apartment building that was currently ablaze, and huge chunks of flaming debris plummeting to the street. It was less than a block away from them, and the sky above them was already blackening with smoke.

"I don't know, but it shook the ground!" Meredith replied, shielding her eyes to see what it was exactly.

"Look!" Miranda pointed, as a very distinct helicopter propeller snapped from the flaming mass and swirled in frightening slow motion to the ground.

"Dr. Bailey, there's a bus!" Meredith managed, her eyes glued to the traffic-locked bus that was directly beneath where the piece of machinery was going to land. Bailey reacted instinctively and took off. Meredith heaped the luggage up against the side of the building gracelessly. She acknowledged in the back of her head she didn't often sprint to emergencies behind Dr. Bailey wearing leopard print flats, and found a strange humor in it as she sprinted.

A crowd had collected, and when the women got closer, the smoke was choking and blinding, but they didn't need to see to know when the helicopter propeller landed. The sound of crushing, suffering metal ground their ears, but they pressed onward.

"Let us through!" Miranda barked several times, to no avail. Meredith also tried to elbow her way forward, but had little success.

However, to her left, a man dressed in sleek black also was fighting his way to the front. She edged in behind him, and let him do most of the blocking. Miranda fell in behind Meredith, and soon the three of them emerged at the front of the crowd, where the crushed bus rose up terrifyingly large in front of them. They paused, and the man turned to them, barking over the din, "Who are you?"

"We're both doctors!" she screamed back, awash in relief when she heard approaching sirens.

"So am I! Do you have any trauma experience?"

"We both do!" She indicated Miranda with a head bob, who was struggling to hear him.

"Okay, well let's walk the perimeter and see if there was anyone on the sidewalk!" he shouted, and moved to do so without their affirmation. Meredith watched his sleek, muscular, well-groomed figure, and almost didn't believe his assertion. But she followed him, and Miranda performed the same maneuver on the other side.

The smoke was billowing outward, so once they cleared the front of the bus, the view was clear. But by no means pretty. A young woman and man, presumably together, lay on like rag dolls on the cement in front of the door of the apartment building, and a small boy was a few feet in beyond them.

Miranda appeared on the other side, closest to the boy, and she knelt beside his small body and went to work according to emergency protocol. Meredith and the man got down next to the couple.

"What are her vitals?" the man asked as he felt carefully around the other man's neck and head.

"I have a pulse, barely." Meredith replied, her voice scratchy from the soot and smoke. Assessing there to be head trauma, she didn't roll her over from her side lying position. Instead, she stepped over her and knelt in front of her, only to see a rather prominent pregnant stomach and a very badly burned face. But Meredith could not get past the stomach.

"She's pregnant."

The man cursed, and moved his patient onto his back.

"Make sure she doesn't move too much."

Meredith braced herself against the woman's body, and when she did, her head was right by the woman's mouth. It began to move, and Meredith wished she could hear the entirety of what she said.

"She was responsive! For a minute…now she's not." Meredith cried to no one.

"Just keep her still!" the man responded anyway, as he began compressions on the man's chest. His motions were fierce, desperate, and Meredith had a horrible feeling the man wasn't going to make it. She ventured a glance through the gritty air at Miranda, who was situating the small boy in a way that indicated he too had head trauma. Meredith pressed her eyes closed and tried not to make herself sick.

Just then, on either side of them, a mass of darkly clad paramedics and firemen oozed inward.

"What's going on?" the leader shouted.

After a few brief, difficult moments of explanation, Meredith, the man, and Miranda exchanged information with them. In an impressive, smooth transition, the boy was strapped to a gurney and Miranda and he were loaded into an ambulance on one side. Meredith only saw it in her peripheral, for at the exact same moment, she and her patient as well as the mystery doctor and his patient were being loaded into an ambulance on the other side.

It seemed like the heavy twin doors hadn't even slammed shut yet when the vehicle was in motion, the deafening blare of the siren not even occurring to Meredith as she helped the single paramedic with them.

As they went through their motions precisely, determinedly, and swiftly, the man finally looked up at Meredith.

"I never caught your name, Doctor." He said appreciatively.

"Grey. Meredith Grey." She replied.

"Mark Sloane. Nice work out there." He said with a nod and a smile that could have melted steel. Despite the circumstance, heat rose in her cheeks when she returned the smile.

"Uh…thanks."

* * *

**So this chapter took on a life of its own, but I won't complain! Not much else to say at this point…more to come, _stay with me_! Thank you for reading, and for all the feedback thus far, as well as for any feedback that may be incoming. Hope you enjoyed it!**


	4. Leaving the One I Want to Take

Sadie knew when she shouldn't be speaking.

It was a knowledge few children her age—or adults, for that matter—had the ability to acquire and even fewer had the ability to then implement.

As she sat in the back seat of her father's Range Rover, hands folded on her lap, watching her parents play subtly hostile verbal tennis in the front seat, she knew this to be one time when her talking would not be a good idea.

So she pressed her lips together and ticked her eyes back and forth, as if her parents' words took the form of the ball in a very close match.

"I don't understand why Savvy's is out of the question." Her mother hissed at her father.

"Because, Addison, _after the week we've had_, do you really want to dump her off somewhere on the night we're supposed to be together as a family?" her father demanded, flashing his pointedly meaningful eyes at her mother as they waited in the gridlocked traffic.

Sadie rolled her eyes. She hated when they spoke like she couldn't hear or understand them. She was here, able to comprehend words even if they were a little longer than the ones she used. Plus, with her parents, sometimes it wasn't even about the words. Just her mother's tone of voice and her father's expression would tell her everything she needed to know. So unless they wore masks, they might as well just give up trying to protect her.

"Because, we're about to walk into an emergency situation, which could tie us up for God knows how long! We aren't being good parents by dragging her in there to that mess!"

"Weren't you the one that said we needed to be more attentive?" Derek returned, as he glided to the left in a small open space and shot forward. Addison expelled breath harshly.

"That was different. This is not only wrong, it's not safe for her."

"Because it's an emergency situation? When I talked to Mark he said it's mostly contained because only the serious cases were going to Bellevue. She can stay in your office, and whoever gets out first can take her home." He reasoned in a voice Sadie knew her mother hated.

Which, of course, did a vague hand motion by her mother follow.

"Fine, Derek. But if it gets past midnight and neither of us is out—,"

"I will call Savvy." Derek said with a victorious smile, taking her hand in his as he glided the vehicle to the right again to merge with traffic.

Sadie sighed and looked out the window at the blur of Central Park.

_Let's see how long this little ceasefire lasts._

* * *

"What's the story, Sloane?" a tall, dark haired man inquired urgently when the ambulance doors swung open at the entrance of Bellevue Hospital. Meredith read his tag. Dr. James Ianello. It sounded oddly familiar, but the sound of Mark's voice brought her back to the present.

"Late 20s, early 30s, pregnant female. Obvious facial burning, and a large hematoma on the back of her head. I felt movement in the abdomen, presumably by the fetus, but I won't be able to tell."

"It's okay, we paged Addison Shepherd and she should be here any minute." Ianello said distractedly as he gripped the descending gurney. As Meredith jumped from the ambulance with Mark's hand on her arm, she blinked.

"Did he say Addison Shepherd?" she asked. Mark frowned at her.

"Yeah, she's the head of neonatal here. Do you know her?"

"Yeah…" but she was cut off by Ianello as he scowled at her and spoke.

"Who are you?" he asked coarsely as the three of them wheeled the gurney into the emergency room.

"Meredith Grey, well, Dr. Meredith Grey."

"Do you work here, Grey?"  
"No, I'm from Seattle Grace."

She didn't notice a light bulb go on in Mark's eyes.

"What the hell are you doing in my E.R., then?" Ianello snapped impatiently. She opened her mouth to speak—or stammer, really—when Mark jumped in.

"She was first on the scene, trying to help. I saw her creds in the ambulance." He lied, with an unresponsive glance as she looked at him in bewilderment. He had just put a whole lot of faith in her, and she wanted to know why.

"Okay," Ianello said begrudgingly, only because Mark was technically his superior. "Well both of you need to get some scrubs on, then, and talk to the Chief."

When he wheeled the woman out of their grip and they stood together at the entrance of the sterilized area, Meredith opened her mouth to ask the man she had met only twenty minutes ago why he was giving her an in on a very high risk case without even meeting her. Just then, she saw Miranda and another doctor burst through the door with the little boy.

"Dr. Bailey!" she shouted, and her only answer was a nod as the gurney flew by.

"Coworker?" Mark asked. Meredith raised her eyebrows.

"My boss, actually."

"Well, she will probably want an in, too. I'll see what I can do." Mark said with a shrug, and Meredith turned to him. She frowned, quizzically, and attempted to question him, but again, he spoke before she could.

"You might want to change your shoes." He said flatly, looking down at her leopard print "Manhattan" shoes as Izzie had called them. "The Chief here is a tough sell, especially with out of town doctors and crazy animal print shoes." He winked and motioned her to follow him as he headed to a locker room.

She frowned.

_And they say New Yorkers are unfriendly._

* * *

Miranda Bailey had forgotten where she was, until she looked up at the questioning eyes of the resident that appeared in front of her. 

She didn't recognize him, but what truly informed her of her displacement of her was the color of his scrubs. Light salmon.

After musing on that for a moment, she met his eyes.

"I'm Dr. Miranda Bailey, of Seattle Grace in Washington. I was on the scene with this patient. I'd like to help in any way possible." She said with surprising balance as she pumped oxygen into the little boy's lungs. The doctor parted his lips and then closed them again. He gave her a once over, and raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think that will be possible."

Miranda squeezed her lips together angrily. She knew she didn't exactly look like a surgeon right then, but his dismissal was too immediate.

"Well, if you would just point me in the direction of his office, I'd be more than happy to find out." She returned icily, straightening.

"Really, Ms. Bailey—,"

"Dr. Bailey."

"—Right, Dr. Bailey…we've got more than enough doctors in this hospital to handle this—,"

"Dr. Bailey?" Miranda reacted instinctively to her name, mostly to avoid the condescending man in front of her. She turned to her right, and standing in the middle of the surgery floor was Addison Shepherd.

"Dr. Shepherd!" she returned, never skipping a beat, as if she worked with her every day. Addison approached the table, arranging her haphazard scrubs and surveying the scene, the broken body of the boy, Miranda, and the salmon-scrubbed doctor beside them.

"What's going on?"

"There was an accident—," Miranda began, but was cut off by the doctor.

"This woman is not cleared in this hospital, and she is working on my patient!" he asserted, though it came off much more like a whine. Addison shook her head.

"I know her, from Seattle Grace. She was a doctor of my daughter's, a very good doctor. Were you on the scene?" she asked, addressing Miranda.

"Yes. I was here for the Keller-Butler and—,"

"With all due respect, Addison, you don't have the authority to clear her. She has to stop working on my patient!" he protested, and Miranda took a moment to regard him with disgust. He was practically stomping his foot.

"James, she is not putting this child in any more danger by giving him oxygen, so the urgency in your voice is unnecessary. As for my authority, or lack thereof, you're correct, partly. She needs to be cleared, but not right away. We have urgent matters at hand, and I can give her temporary clearance until she gets a chance to talk to Hofstetter, which she deserves if she was first on the scene."

With that, he folded his arms.

"This is ridiculous. Why don't we just hand over our entire hospital to out of town doctors?"

"What are you talking about?" Addison demanded as she moved aside Miranda and began pressing on the abdomen of the boy.

"First Sloane, with his Dr. Grey, and then you, with her."

"Dr. Grey is in this hospital?" Miranda asked quickly, remembering suddenly the young intern she had pretty much abandoned. Ianello scoffed.

"Yes. Changing into scrubs, undoubtedly, to work with Sloane on the pregnant burn victim we have in exam 204."

Addison stepped back from the boy, smiled tightly, and glared at Ianello with her eyes.

"Perfect. I can see Dr. Grey when I go over there to answer my page. In the meantime, Dr. Bailey, if you could change into some scrubs down the hall and continue preliminaries on this patient until the assigned Dr. Shepherd arrives?"

With a flourish, Addison turned on her heel, and Miranda carefully handed over her oxygen bag to Ianello, smiling with acidity.  
"I'll be back."

* * *

"Well that was incredibly scary." Meredith commented as she and Mark exited Dr. Hofstetter's office. She took an audible breath, and Mark smiled.

"Steve's not such a bad guy, really." He moved past her with a motion to follow. "He just likes to be sure. Especially when it comes to his doctors, which you just became for today at least."

Meredith tried to keep pace with his step. He was obviously a man who never slowed down, and she wondered if he just never missed a step, or if he was just going so fast that when he did, he didn't notice.

"Well I'm glad he was sure about me." She remarked, examining his profile.

"Luckily, my little fib turned out to be true. You have great creds. Seattle Grace is known, and Dr. Webber had nothing but nice things to say."

"Yeah, but your influence certainly helped." She was nearly panting when they reached the elevators and he pressed the button inward with his middle finger.

"I did what I could." He said offhandedly, smiling innocently again. She frowned.

"But why. You don't even know me. I could be a—,"

"You ran blindly into an unsecured accident scene, with no thought to your own health, to save people you didn't know." He supplied for her, leaning against the wall by the elevator and towards her somehow in one smooth motion.

"Exactly. Obviously unstable." She reasoned quickly, not liking the way his close proximity made her skin prickle. He smiled again, devilishly, and she needed for him to stop that, especially if they were going to be working together.

"Obviously unstable isn't so bad. If you didn't notice, I was right there with you."

"But still…" she protested, as the elevators began to slide open.

"But still what? I have no other ulterior motive, yet, and even if I did, you'll be leaving in a few days anyway, right Seattle?" he asked. She frowned.  
"I guess."  
"So why not just enjoy the fact you get to save some lives?" he implored with an eyebrow wriggle.

_Because of stuff like that. _"I just…I'm out of my element."

"You'll be fine, I think. You're the famous Dr. Grey."

Just as the elevators were about to shut and she was going to pursue the remark, a leather-clad arm jutted through.

"Hold on," Derek Shepherd implored. Mark reached out and helped shove the door aside.

"'Bout time you got here!" he said jokingly as Derek stepped in. Meredith's mouth fell open.

"I went as fast as I could—Meredith?" Derek stopped, halfway in the elevator.

"Hi, Dr. Shep—Derek." She finished. She shouldn't have been shocked to see him—it _was _New York City, he _did _work at Bellevue, but it was still strange. As if it couldn't get stranger, a small dark head popped in between Derek's hip and the door.

"Dad, are you going to get on, or what?" Sadie demanded. Meredith's shock dissolved into a strange warmth when she met the familiar blue-green eyes.

"Hey, Sadie!" she greeted, and the little girl wiggled past her father.  
"Meredith!" she hugged Meredith's waist, and Meredith laughed. Mark watched, not the least bit surprised.

"Like I said. The famous Dr. Meredith Grey." he asked as Derek finally stepped on. Meredith looked between the men and nodded.

"I guess I am."

* * *

The salmon scrubs made her look like a peep. A life-sized marshmallow peep.

They didn't have that effect on Addison Shepherd. Miranda imagined the woman never looked anything but very, very tall and thin in anything.

Pushing the silly thoughts aside, Miranda entered the exam room where Addison was performing an ultrasound on a newly stabilized pregnant patient while two young, eager, on-looking interns peered at the screen beside her.

"It doesn't look good. This baby is coming out, soon." Addison said to no one in particular, her eyes glued to the screen. Miranda stepped beside her, enthralled in the pulsating image.

"Does…what is that…thing?" she asked hesitantly, indicating another formation beside the baby. Addison squinted.

"I don't know. He's been through a lot of trauma, so it's possible there's an obstruction. The placenta may have swelled." She cocked her head. "Though, it looks…"

"Like…a tail." Miranda supplied. Both women cocked their heads identically, staring at the image.

"Dr. Cullen, could you please take her for an MRI? I need a better view of this baby. And has my husband been paged for a neuro consult?"

"Yeah, but he's got the child in 202 as a primary patient."

"Fine, but get her in for that scan and then his consult soon as he's finished, and then I want the films as soon as possible."

When they disappeared with the gurney, Addison turned to lead Miranda out.

"My husband Derek, who you met, is apparently the assigned surgeon for the boy, and I'm sure he will find something so he can keep you involved. I've given you temporary clearance, but you can't participate in surgery until Chief Hofstetter clears you officially."

"That's fine." Miranda replied as they made it to the nurse's station and Addison handed her the file.

"These are the prelim labs, and my husband should be here any—,"

"Your husband is here, now." Derek said from behind her, knotting his scrub pants.

"Perfect. Derek, Miranda Bailey of Seattle. A transplant that will be helping you today with the boy in 202." Addison introduced formally. Derek took her hand.

"Dr. Bailey! You worked on my daughter with Dr. Burke last year."

"Yes, I did."

"Wonderful. I'm in good company."

"Where is the progeny?" Addison asked without looking at him, instead paging through the files for the appropriate one.

"She's in your office, already channel surfing."

"Good. Not as good as at Savvy's, but good." Addison said meaningfully, just as Mark and Meredith walked up.

"Grey!" Bailey greeted the intern, who had a pair of hunter green scrubs, matching the man beside her. "Where have you been?"

"I was getting clearance. I hope, I hope that's okay?" Meredith asked sheepishly, not wanting to incur any of the previous wrath.

"Of course. Who are you with?"

"She's with me." The man beside her said, holding out a hand. "Mark Sloane."

"Good. If you need me, I'll be with Dr. Shepherd."

"Okay." Meredith nodded quickly. Mark grabbed the file Addison held out and they both moved past the other three.

"Let's get a look at our patient, Dr. Grey." Mark barked.

Meredith took a breath and jogged behind them.

"They're going to run her ragged." Derek observed, turning to Miranda. "You got lucky, I'm easier to match pace with."

"I'm used to running. It's all I ever do." Miranda commented. Derek sighed as he read the bleak report so far on Johnny Doe, their anonymous boy patient.

"Well let's see if we can't help our patient to do that sometime in the future. It's a beautiful day to save lives."

* * *

"How hard is the tissue going to be to replace?" Meredith asked as Mark examined the face of the woman and she proceeded to pick bits of glass from her skin. Addison was nearby, still staring intently with confusion twisting her expressions.

"Actually, once the debris and dirt is cleansed, she should be okay, in that respect anyway. The burns are superficial, for the most part. She'll need a heavy dose of antibiotics to prevent infection." He ventured a glance at Addison. "How's baby Doe?"

"Not good." She said simply.

"What's the story?" he asked, motioning to a piece Meredith missed.

"Spinal dysraphism, severe. He was already in distress—he needs to come out now or he's not going to make it."

"Jesus. Well, I'm almost done here, and I'll give her an antibiotic drip to keep the infection from starting."

"Does Derek need you for any reason on his case?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well I need you on this one. When that baby comes out, he's going to need work fast. The growth is pressing on his abdomen."

"I'll be there." Mark assured her, with a nod at Meredith. "With Dr. Grey, too."

"Fine. I want to go in in a half hour."

"How is she, otherwise?" Meredith asked quietly, observing the anonymous woman's unconscious body.

"Well Derek said the concussion was severe, but there's no dangerous bleeding. She's stable, so we get to go in first and get the baby. Then he'll be working."

"Okay." Meredith bit her lip, feeling strangely very sorry for this young girl. After Mark had cleaned her face, her age became apparent, and Meredith figured her a little younger than herself.

"What about the man she was with?" Meredith asked, and Mark shook his head.

"He died en route."

Meredith looked again at the woman, and was about to comment when a nurse appeared in the doorway.

"Dr. Shepherd, Dr. Sloane, we've got someone in the lobby. She went with Dr. Shepherd—Derek—first and confirmed the little boy to be her grandson, the DOA male to be her son-in-law, and is then, by deduction, assuming this to be her daughter. Says her name is Amy Ryan. And she wants to see her."

"Well, she can't, right now. Amy needs to be prepped for surgery." Addison said. "I'll go talk to her, though."

After she breezed out, Meredith addressed the nurse.

"How is the little boy?"

"Neuro says he's nonresponsive." Was her clipped reply as she followed Addison.

Meredith sighed heavily and reached for bandages.

"Not pretty, is it?" Mark asked, also beginning to bandage the Amy's face. Meredith shook her head mournfully.

"Not even that. Her face is the least of her worries. How are we supposed to tell her, when she comes to, that her husband is dead, her little boy may be comatose for the rest of his life, and the baby she's delivered is horribly sick?"

Mark shrugged. "Just like that."

Meredith looked at him in appall.

"Callous much?"

"Is it going to be made any better by easing her into it? She's still a widow, mother to a coma patient and a very sick infant." Mark reasoned, never dropping a cloth as he proceeded to bandage. Meredith shook her head and went back to work.

"Still. A little sensitivity wouldn't hurt it."

"Is that the kind of bedside manner they teach out there on the West coast? Sugarcoat and delude, stat?" Mark remarked with a curl in his lip. Meredith scowled.

"Is Callous and Arrogance a core requirement at NYU med or did you just take it as an elective?"

Mark grinned, and let his eyes tick up at her.

"I inspired it."

* * *

"Let's not give up yet. I'm going to perform one more test on Danny before we send him to pediatric intensive care." Derek decided, sending the pediatric interns away. Miranda stood beside the bed of Danny Ryan, the little boy she had brought in with the paramedics.

"He's nonresponsive. Just like that." She murmured. Derek stood across from her and began hooking up the sensors for his final test.

"Not just like that. A big piece of brick hit him. The bleeding was easily controlled, but the damage is extensive."

"But he can't…I mean, you don't think he'll come out of it. You can't. I don't. I see this all the time and it's usually the same."

"That's pessimistic, Dr. Bailey. Danny has a chance. Just not right away."

They both stood beside the machine that hummed to life, and sent microwaves into Danny's body.

None of the needles jumped.

Miranda regarded Danny with a strange twist in her stomach. He had soft blonde hair that fell in clumps across his face, matted with dirt. His face was cute, rounded and he looked like a loveable troublemaker.

She imagined all it took was a smile to absolve him to his mother. Like Tuck.

Biting her lip and warding off the thoughts of her own little boy thousands of miles away, she returned her gaze to Derek.

"Nothing?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nothing."

She turned back to Danny as Derek shut off the machine, and took his hand.

"They'll clean him before they put him in the unit, won't they?" she asked softly. Derek nodded, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, they will."

"I mean, for uh, infection's sake." She tried to recover some professional dignity, but when she looked at Derek, his eyes were soft.

"It's never easy. Never, ever. Especially when you think…it could have been mine."

Miranda turned quickly.

"I don't know what you mean."

Derek removed his hand, and collected the chart.

"I'm sorry there isn't any more for us to do, here, Dr. Bailey." He hesitated before leaving. "But maybe, you could make sure he gets settled in the unit and monitor him for the next two hours, until he's stable?"

Miranda nodded.

"All right."

* * *

Addison wanted to slam the door to her office, to make sure it was closed tight enough to ward out the world snapping at her heels for just a moment.

But when she opened it and saw the sleeping form of Sadie on her couch, she eased it slowly shut, tiptoed to the couch, and sat at the end beyond her daughter's curled legs.

And cried.

Her tears were silent, her sobs completely inside of her, but as she pressed her hands into her eyes, all she saw was a kaleidoscope of Amy Ryan, her mother, her malformed baby, and then again.

_This is ridiculous. _She told herself finally, bringing her face up and looking at the undisturbed Sadie.

She dealt with this kind of thing all the time. It was tragic, of course, but routine.

_It's the not the situation that's changed, it's you. _She inwardly informed herself. She chewed on her lip and flattened her daughter's tangled skirt.

_It was this way, before, too. _She had never cried as much as she had been lately, except for the few months she spent pregnant with Sadie.

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

_What the hell am I going to do?_

Just then, Derek eased the door open.

"Hey," he whispered, turning on the light. Addison tried to cover her eyes, but he was in front of her, kneeling with his hands on her knees, before she could keep the crying to herself.

"What's going on?" he asked, bringing her hands down to rest on her thighs.  
"Just…this case." She tried to change the subject, sort of. "How's the boy?"

"Nonresponsive. They moved him to the peeds intensive care a half hour ago. When are you going to go in on the mother?"

"Mark is doing some last minute graft work, so probably in an hour."

"Okay. I put my name on the board for an in. If it's spinal dysraphism, I could help." He said, standing. Addison shook her head.

"It's too early for any neurosurgery. The baby is incredibly weak. I'm just having Mark remove the growth to allow for normal function." She stood too, stretching.

"Still, something might go wrong where you need me." He said, lacing his arms around her waist.

"You know what I need you to do?" she asked sweetly.

"What?"

"To take Sadie home."

"We'll both take her home, after the surgery." He resolved, kissing her lightly.

"But, Derek, I don't _need _you on the surgery. Nothing about it is neuro. It's strictly to get the baby out and get him stabilized. You already cleared the mother."

"But as long as Sadie is here, asleep, I might as well scrub in!" he pushed.

Addison stepped back.

"Derek, we already decided if one of us got out early, we would take her home. You're out early. You should take her home."

"Why not just wait for the surgery!"

"It could take hours before I'm okay to leave! The baby has to be stable!"

"Then let's just have Savvy come get her. She said she would."

Addison ran her hands through her hair, grabbing handfuls.

"Derek, you _could_ just take her home."

"And what about the surgery? Spinal dysraphism is neuro."

"Yes, it is—but we're not dealing with that in this surgery. You can get your publish in a few months. You are needed more at home right now."

"I'm not the only one putting work—and vanity—before family here."

"Vanity? I'm going to save this woman and her child's life! What do you want me to do? Tell her family I have to let her and her baby die a slow suffocating death because my daughter has to go home and my husband can't take her?"

"She could go to Savvy's!"

"Savvy is not her parent, Derek, we are! I am, and you are, too, despite how you act sometimes."  
"I'm not her _mother_."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Addison asked, her voice a very low growl. Had they not been in the room with Sadie sleeping, it would have been much, much loud.

"Because, you're her mother. You're her mother, and mothers…" Derek cut himself off immediately, but not soon enough to recover.

"Mothers what Derek?" Addison pressed, her eyes on fire.

"Nothing, Addison." Derek put a hand up and dropped his head.

"No, obviously you had some greater idea of what mothers should do that I'm not doing, so please, enlighten me to my failings." She demanded, not noticing Sadie stirring.

"You know that's not what I meant." He returned, matching her defensive stance.

"No, Derek, I think that was exactly what you really meant. You think I shouldn't…do this."

"Addison, what the hell are you talking about? You're taking this too far." Derek shouted.

"Am I?" Addison snapped, "Or are you just unable to admit that you feel that way?"

"I never said that."

"No. You don't have to."

"STOP IT!"

Both of them turned, horrified, at Sadie on the couch, her eyes streaming with tears. Derek looked at Addison with an expression that could have vaporized steel. She pressed her hand to her forehead, and moved towards her daughter.

"Don't pretend like you weren't fighting. I know you were. I'm not stupid."

"We're sorry, baby. You shouldn't have heard that." Derek murmured softly.

"Why? It was about me, wasn't it?"

"No, not really…"

"Don't lie about it, Mom. I always hear you. It's always about me." Sadie implored her, turning her tear stained eyes at Addison. "I'm sorry I make you guys fight."

Addison wrapped her arms around her daughter and fought the pressing urge to cry.

"It's—it's not you, honey. It's…us." She clung to her daughter as Derek sat down on the other side of the couch.

"We fight about our stuff, Sadie. Not you. We both love you, more than anything. It's just hard." He rubbed her back lightly.

Addison closed her eyes as she held her crying daughter and listened to her husband's comforting words. How much longer could this go on? Did she and Derek have it in them for another round?

_What the hell am I going to do?_

"I…I have to go." She eased Sadie from her arms. "Are you all right, honey?"

Sadie nodded, and swiped at her eyes.

"I'll stay with her for a while." Derek said, his meaning obvious—he was staying for the surgery. And she couldn't very well argue about it anymore.

But as Addison walked out the door to go for the surgery, she thought not about her husband, or daughter, but about whether or not she herself could do this much longer.

* * *

**Well there it is. A HUGE chapter. But I'm finding it's hard to break this story up, so I just ended it after 10 pages. Luckily, there's another chapter about halfway done that was originally part of this chapter but, well, I decided to have pity on my loyal readers. Essentially- more to come, soon. Hopefully you're enjoying, and sticking with me as I try to find my way through this. Much love for all who are! **

**Until next time…**


	5. So Few Come and Don't Go

"So how long have you been together?"

"What do you mean?" Mark asked in response to Meredith's question as they sat outside OR 7, waiting for Addison.

"You. Addison. Derek." Meredith spoke in fragments. Mark looked up from his chart.

"I don't know as I'd call us 'together'. Though there was that one drunken night in med school…" he said with a suggestive eyebrow wriggle. Meredith smiled and rolled her eyes.

"I didn't mean…do you make everything sexual?" she demanded at his hearty laugh. She even elbowed him to cease the teasing chuckle.

"I was only going to say, there was the one drunken night in med school when we all passed out on the same crappy futon, but uh, that's as close as either of them ever got to taking advantage of me. Despite many fumbling attempts." He said with a wink.

Meredith didn't give him the satisfaction of another eye roll, and instead proceeded like an adult. "So you went to medical school together?"

"Yeah. Derek and I met when we were both sophomores in college. I had a studio in Spanish Harlem, my roommate ran off to join the circus—and by circus I mean the cocaine fad of the eighties—and Derek answered the ad." Mark informed her simply, thumbing through the papers.

"And voila? Best friends?"

He finally looked up at her seriously. "Why does that seem to register shock and skepticism?"

"You just seem so different."

"We are, but we're alike in the important ways." He assured her cryptically, turning back to his reading. Meredith's curiosity wasn't sated.

"And Addison? She joined your duo when?"

"First day of med school." He paused again, and looked up, musing.

"Derek came back to the apartment, fuming. Some 'redheaded she-devil' upstaged him quite mercilessly. He wouldn't shut up about her for weeks. I knew she had him, and I took every opportunity to point out that he might as well be chasing her on a playground and pulling her hair, which he would then deny in all his righteous rage…and then I stumbled into our place one night, kicked open the bathroom door, and saw the one and same redheaded devil peeing on my toilet wearing nothing but Derek's CBGB tee shirt."

Meredith's mouth dropped at the image. "Oh my God! That must have been mortifying!"

"Actually, she simply stood, washed her hands, and then took my hand, introducing herself very coolly as Addison Montgomery." Mark recalled with a smirk and a head shake.

"What did you say?"

"Something couth, she assures me, the details of which she never divulged. But I passed out, so I don't remember."

"Probably for the better." Meredith decided.

"I imagine." When the silence spanned between them, he broke it asking, "Did you ever scrub in on anything neonatal before?"

"Nope. My focus is mostly neuro."

"Really? You should talk to Derek. He's the best."

"So I hear. And we did have some…talks while he was in Seattle."

"He's the guy you want to talk to. Why neuro?" Mark asked distractedly. Somehow, it made Meredith…more at ease. But she just shrugged.

"…Just fell that way."

Her avoidance of the topic peaked his curiosity.

"You just woke up one day and thought, I'd like to be a brain surgeon?"

"Something like that." Why she felt compelled to say more to him, she didn't know. But she did. "I'm working on a project, this year, and…the experience in neuro helps."

"Then you should really talk to Derek while you're here. What's the project?"

"I'm trying to get a patient approved for an experimental treatment in Switzerland for Alzheimer's."

"Whoa. That's an endeavor. Those places are insanely exclusive. Does your patient have a lot of pull?"

"Some."

"How advanced is she?"

"Early on-set, progressive."

"Damn. Well, it will help your chances."

"Yeah. I hope so." She remarked darkly, averting her eyes now. He, on the other hand, did not go back to the chart. Instead, he deadpanned, "What happened to the light?"

"Excuse me?"

"Light. You. You're bright one minute, and then it's like the light goes out. What's the deal?" he wasn't probing, inquisitive, or nosy. He was asking as if he was asking why she chose a red shirt that day. And that, she decided, was why she told him. But she still didn't know why.

"The patient…the patient is my mother."

"The Alzheimer's patient?"

"Yes. And she's going quickly. If she doesn't get into this program, then she'll probably die where she is. But not right away…she'll…she'll just get worse and worse until when she actually does die, it will almost be a relief and…" Meredith cursed herself as her reserve crumbling, and she began to cry. He put a hand on her shoulder, but no more.

"Hey, hey, hey…you're making the bored psych interns perk up. Careful or I'll have them cart you off." He whispered to her as she rubbed at her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't know…I don't know where that came from."

"You all right to go into surgery? I can't have you sobbing into a woman's exposed uterus."

"I'll be fine. I honestly…that never happens." She assured him. He smiled and nodded.

"I would hope not. How would you like your surgeon to shake your hand, introducing themselves amidst sobs as, "D-D-D-D-D-Dr. M-M…" he dragged out the stuttering, and even added a little spastic shaking for emphasis.

Now, she was laughing almost hysterically, and felt even more unstable. She slapped his arm.

"Stop it! You know, if I were a fragile person, I'd be in need of some psychological debriefing after spending too much time with you!"

"If you were a fragile person, you wouldn't be a surgeon. Or even a doctor. Plus, it would almost be dumb to say, "I'm sorry," because naturally, you know I'm sorry. Alzheimer's sucks, often more for the family. It's the closest thing to Hell on Earth." His words carried a very distinct, yet subtle message.

"Yeah. Who was it?" Meredith asked quietly. Mark glanced at her quickly, looked away for a long time, and then spoke.

"My grandfather. Practically raised me. He was larger than life, a powerhouse. And when I was eighteen, this powerhouse…he started to go. Fast." He swallowed, and turned to look in her direction, though not in her eyes. "They said it would happen that way, but not overnight like it did. He became a shell of himself after less than two years. At my medical school graduation, when I shook his hand, I thought I saw some pride, some recognition, and I was so thrilled, but then he pulled me down close to his wheelchair and asked, 'Have we met young man?' It...it hurts."

"I'm sor—," Meredith swallowed a commiserating, sorrowful lump in her throat. "Is he still alive?"

"Nope. He went a few months after that." Mark took one last moment, in which Meredith could actually see the churn of the emotions in his eyes, but then switched off.

Not off, she decided. Just…on to something else. Everything else was still there, he just seemed to be good at diverting.

"We should get to surgery. Addison will have our asses." He said, clapping the chart shut and jumping up.

"Yeah…" she took a breath, and followed him, once again on the run.

* * *

"I love you, too, Tucker. How's Will?" Miranda asked softly, cradling her cell phone in the crook between her shoulder and ear as she leafed through Danny Ryan's charts. She listened to the vague rustling on the other side of the line, and Tucker cooing in the distance. 

"Say Hi to Mom, Will." She heard him say in the background. After a pause, Miranda spoke.

"Will? Is that you, bugaboo?"

At the sound of his mother's voice, William Bailey-Jones expelled a joyous, bubbly shriek. Miranda's faced creased into a wide smile.

"That's my boy. How are you?"

Will embarked on a litany of unintelligible babbling, with the emphasis and pitch of someone telling an excited story. Only a mother would listen with the adoration that Miranda did, forgetting momentarily the charts before her.

After a few minutes, Will lapsed into silence and Tucker came back over the line.

"He loves talking on the phone. My mother called this morning and he wouldn't stop." Tucker informed her, over Will's continued babbling. Miranda pressed the phone harder to her ear, as if to draw them both closer.

"I'll bet. I miss you both, so much."

"We miss you, too. I told Will you were helping a sick little boy, though, and he said you're excused for being so far away."

Miranda's eyes drifted to the fragile form of the boy she didn't even know, lying swaddled in the sheets, a web of tubes protruding from his body.

"Yes, I guess I am."

"You guess? Miranda, you're amazing. That boy is lucky the building fell on him with you but feet away."

She pressed her eyes closed.

"I guess. But…what about my little boy?"

"He's far away from any tumbling buildings. I managed that much without you."

"I know, Tuck."

"Hey."

"Hey what?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I'm lucky to have you as a wife, and as the mother of my son. You're an amazing woman."

"Thank you. Sometimes I just don't—oh my god!"

"What, what is it?"

"Tuck, I have to go! Kiss Will for me. I love you both!"

Before he could respond, Miranda slapped the cell phone shut and pounced on the defibrillator machine beside Danny's bed. She stared at the heart monitor that had suddenly gone flat and was screaming for attention.

"We have a code blue, a CODE BLUE!"

By the time she charged the paddles, Derek Shepherd was at the bedside.

"What happened?" he demanded, panic surging through his words as he hurriedly scanned the machines.

"I don't know, he just…crashed. I don't understand! He was stable, I was, I was watching him Dr. Shepherd, I promise!"

"Anything could have happened." Derek assured her quickly, "It wasn't you, Dr. Bailey. But we need him in surgery now. Someone tell Sloane and Montgomery I won't be in on their case!" he shouted to anyone who would listen, before turning to Miranda. "Can you scrub in, Dr. Bailey?"

"Of course." She watched as the orderlies rushed the bed down the hall, and when she caught a glimpse of Danny Ryan's face, she saw for a brief second Will's face.

And she felt that she had failed them both.

* * *

Addison peeled off her surgical cap, which was ringed with sweat. 

The surgery had been Hell. But Amy Ryan, for the moment, would live. Her child, on the other hand, would not.

"Damn it." She said under her breath as she ran her hands under the surge of steaming water. Meredith Grey's eyes ticked nervously over as she performed the same action beside Addison.

"You did a beautiful job." She offered, because it was true. The only reason the baby hadn't survived was because of damage already inflicted—Addison had not stood a chance. Everyone in the operating room had known it, too, when she opened her.

Mark remained mute, but the concern for Addison was evident on his features.

After her hands were cleansed, she pressed her palms against the edges of the sink and stared at the swirling red water. Finally, Mark spoke.

"Addison, don't beat yourself up." His words were so tender, Meredith imagined if they were a physical gesture, it would have been an embrace. Addison only shook her head in response, and then walked out.

She didn't meet the eyes of anyone in the halls. It was okay. She had cultivated the tough, intimidating, borderline Ice Queen Bitch reputation for a reason.

When she eased the door of the pediatric Intensive Care Unit open, she was depressed to see another person. Until she saw Miranda's eyes.

They mirrored her own, and she felt at ease enough to sit beside her.

A few long minutes passed before Miranda, without taking her eyes from Danny Ryan's body, spoke.

"How did you do it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your daughter. She loves you. You're a good mother. How did you do it?"

"Nine months gestation followed by not dropping her too much before she learned to walk on her own, and then just standing behind her in case she fell." She replied with a humorless half smile. She turned to examine the other woman's profile. "You said you had a son?"

"Yes, I do. Will. He's eight months old." Miranda spoke slowly and mechanically.

"Ah, a March baby. That's when Sadie was born." Addison observed.

"Actually, he was born in January."

Addison furrowed her eyebrow, redoing her math.

"Then, uh, he's ten months old."

Miranda performed a similar mathematic equation, and her lips slipped apart.

"My God. That's almost a year."

Addison nodded, thinking of Sadie at that age. With her short, wavy hair, she had looked a lot like Derek. Mark used to like to give Addison Hell, saying she'd make a cuter boy. And now, he complained that she was getting to be too cute of a girl.

"Yeah. He's about to become a lot of fun…and then run you right up the wall." She reminisced. Miranda seemed to not be on the same page.

"But…a year…my God. I didn't even know."

"It happens." Addison allowed herself a little ramble. "Nothing makes time elapse faster than having children, either. I mean, you can pass off your own aging for a while because when you get to a certain point its gradual, but kids…they just change so much so fast…" Especially when you work hundred plus hours a week, she thought to herself.

Miranda still seemed in awe. "I don't mean that, really. I mostly…oh never mind."

"What is it?"

"I feel…I feel like I'm losing it. On all fronts. My life is a war, a multi-front war, and I'm losing on of them." Miranda spoke quietly at first, and lowered her head to stare into her lap. Addison, at a loss, reached out and took her hand, without speaking. The gesture seemed to stimulate more words.

"I am a good doctor." She began, as tears brimmed in her eyes, giving them a sheen over the deep chocolate irises.

"I've been a good doctor for years—but until ten months ago. I may have been a doctor, but I've never been a mother. I don't know if I'll be any good at it. I want to be, and I try, but I don't ever know if I'm doing it right. When he cries, when he's sick, I feel…I get to a point where I start to think that if I had been home, if I hadn't been at work, he would be better. I thought I could do both—I really did. But lately, I can't help but…doubt. And that doubt starts seeping into everything. Eventually, it even seeps into my work. Not only am I seeing doubt in the eyes of the people I work with, but also I feel it in my heart. And that scares me. Because you can't doubt and be a good doctor. You can't doubt a damned thing." The tears were unstoppable, and she instinctively leaned to the side, to lay her head gently on Addison's welcoming shoulder. Addison wove an arm around Miranda's shoulder, cradling her, as she cried.

Eventually, Miranda managed, "And the Keller-Butler, the conference I'm missing, was my chance to prove not only to my boss but to myself that I could do it. And now, I'm not even there."

Addison waited until the tears ebbed before she began.

"Dr. Bailey…"

"I just blubbered all over your arm, you can just call me Miranda." Miranda assured her, sitting up from her and dabbing her eyes.

"Miranda…first of all, you're not at Keller-Butler because you're here, in the hospital you don't even work at, sitting by the beside of a child who you helped save, and you've given him the best chance he'll get. I know Richard Webber, and you should know, before your plane to Seattle even leaves, a personal letter will be written to him, by me, on your behalf. I'd say that beats the Hell out of the Keller-Butler."

"You don't have to do that."

"I would do it anyway, and I especially will now." Addison smiled slightly when Miranda smiled in gratitude, and decided to continue speaking. "Second of all…do you know what I was doing when I went into labor with my daughter?"

"What?" Miranda asked, her womanly curiosity peaked.

"I was a second-year intern, asked to scrub in and assist on a pre-delivery hormone replacement surgery to counteract congenital adrenal hyperplasia." Addison repeated proudly. Miranda's eyes widened.

"Wow. I've only ever read about that."

"Yes." Addison leaned back in her chair, looking off into the distance. "The head of neonatal at the time was absolutely revolutionary. And he told me I could be next." She took a breath.

"So I told myself the back pain and cramping that had been going on all day were just Braxton Hicks, which I had almost biweekly. But it wasn't. It was the real thing. And you would think, being that I was already beginning my training for neonatal, I would know not to ignore it. But I did. For six hours. Until a scrub nurse called a stop to the surgery because she had looked up and seen blood on my scrubs."

Addison's voice had dropped, and Miranda felt her guilt as if it was her own.

"You let it go." She whispered.

"Almost…almost too late." Addison managed, her eyes dropping to her lap. "I don't even want to think about, because…because now I know what could have happened…but they saved her. She was actually very healthy, too. The point is…I never told my husband. He was in surgery, too, so he didn't know and I never told him. I didn't want him to know. That way he would never doubt me, and I could pretend I didn't either."

"But you do?"

"I do. Not as much, but sometimes…no one can help doubt. It makes us more aware, to know what could happen. It's when we let it get to us that it becomes fatal. And I never let it get to me. Until recently."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Well, I do." She met Miranda's probing eyes, and very plainly stated, "I'm almost four months pregnant."

This registered on Miranda's face as a strange contortion of surprise and disbelief.

"I had…no idea. Congratulations."

Addison snorted quite ungracefully.

"Well, aside from you, I, and my unborn son, no one knows." She leaned forward, resting her arms on her legs and her hands in her palms. "Because, like that day in surgery, I have been essentially ignoring it. Not carelessly so—I just haven't told anyone, including my husband." She murmured shamefully.

"Because…?"

"Because lately, I've been just barely surviving being the working mother of one, let alone two. And I'm terrified with the choices that this will force me to make."

"You mean to not have it?"

"No!" Addison exclaimed, sitting upright again. "I never even considered that. I meant more about my career. I love it. You know…it's not just a job. It's a lifestyle. And we've survived this far with our daughter, but things are different now. I just…I wish I knew. I wish I knew we could do it again."

They sat in silence for a few moments, the rhythmic beeping of Danny's monitor the only noise. Miranda eventually turned to Addison.

"What makes this any harder, in reality, then having a baby as an intern? You're both more settled in your careers, you have security…"

Addison nodded, and then sighed again.

"Yes, and to assure both of those things, my husband and I work so much that I see my daughter for three hours a day. One before she goes to school and two after before she goes to bed. I don't know how much more I can successfully divide myself up. Plus…I'm just old." She finished with a grimace.

"Old?" Miranda asked with a raised eyebrow.

"When your first thought at a missed period is early on-set menopause, you're old." Addison said with a self-deprecating smile, and both women laughed sincerely for the first time all day. After, again there was silence, but not awkward. Their bond and the circumstance had transcended normal social expectations.

"I guess…I guess we never really know." Miranda said softly, watching Danny's face again.

"Sure feels that way." Addison agreed, also watching the face of the boy, wondering what her son would look like.

"But the best we can do is not let it rule or define us. Then, we're okay."

"We're more than okay. I think we're better for it. As mothers and surgeons." She said, hoping more than anything that it was true.

Miranda hooked an eyebrow and said with a smirk, "I thought it was only interns who sit around bemusedly philosophizing about the nuances and complexities of life and medicine."

Addison heaved a sigh.

"It's been a long day."

* * *

"Meredith?" 

As she emerged from the locker room, still buttoning the last claps on her shirt, Meredith jerked her head up and looked at Sadie's face, which was framed with sheets as it poked out from beneath a gurney across the hallway. She frowned, finished the buttoning job, and lowered to a squat to meet Sadie at eye level.

"What are you doing down there, kid?" she asked, tugging the sheets aside to see that Sadie had set up camp under the gurney, with a thin book clutched in her hand. The little girl wriggled out, and brushed off her skirt.

"My Dad had to go unexpectedly. I was supposed to stay in my mom's office, but I was alone so..." She quickly panicked. "Don't tell them I was out here, okay? I'm supposed to stay in my mom's office, and definitely not be on the surgical floor."

Meredith smiled, and took her hand.

"Your secret is safe. Why don't you show me to your Mom's office, though? We'll hang out there until she comes back so you're not lonely."

She figured if Bailey needed her, she'd find her. Sadie took her hand, gripping it tightly as they walked.

"You still keeping your iPod updated?" Meredith asked easily. Sadie smiled at the understood familiarity and nodded.

"Sure have. And have I got a new band for you!"

"Not another whiny emo band, right? I had enough of that with Tokyo Rose."

"No! They're great. It's Breaking Benjamin. A little hardcore for you, maybe, but they're good when you're angry." Sadie assured her seriously as they weaved through the throng of doctors, nurses, and orderlies, ignoring the curious looks.

"Okay. I'll give them a listen." Meredith agreed, not pursuing the anger comment any further yet.

"This is her office." Sadie stopped beside an imposing white door, with Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd printed evenly in blank on a grey plate.

"Nice digs. Can't say they beat hiding out under a gurney, though."

"You'd be surprised." Sadie commented darkly, darker than a child her age should be able to convey. Meredith turned to her with concern, but was interrupted when Miranda appeared beside them.

"Show and tell, Grey?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Actually, this is my _friend_, Sadie. You remember Dr. Shepherd and Dr. Shepherd-Montgomery's daughter?"

With that, Miranda noticeably softened.

"Ah, yes! You've gotten so big! Still such a pretty girl, though." She winked, and Sadie smiled shyly.

"Thank you."

"Did you finish your case, Dr. Bailey?" Meredith asked.

"Yes. He's stable, and should be okay. How about you?"

"The mother is okay, but we lost the baby."

"That's a shame." She took an audible breath and a marked pause, but then continued, "What's also not good is that I called our hotel and they gave away our reservation."

Meredith sighed. "We're sleeping in an on call room, aren't we?"

Sadie frowned. "Ew. I did that once. They have the worst mattresses."

Both women laughed and exchanged knowing glances.

"Why don't you call around while I wash up, Grey? See who has some openings. On call rooms will be a last resort."

"Sure." With that, Miranda disappeared in the direction of the locker room.

Meredith shrugged and turned to Sadie.

"How about some Breaking Benjamin while we call hotels?"

Sadie nodded excitedly at the new adventure.

They set up camp on the floor of Addison's office, both with a phone and phone book in hand. Sadie set up her iPod on the computer on Addison's desk, and they had the closest thing to a pajama party as they could muster.

After twenty minutes and almost twice as many refusals from hotels around Manhattan, Addison appeared in the doorway to crash their party.

"Hello, Meredith." She greeted with fatigued surprise. Meredith smiled, and tried to recover some professional dignity, awkwardly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to overrun your office. I was just doing some business for Dr. Bailey." Addison waved it off.

"Anything I can help you with. It's an unreasonably enormous office, anyway, for the amount of time I don't spend in it." She looked down to Sadie, who was just hanging up with a Best Western. "Honey, are you ready to sleep in a real bed?"

"We going home?" Sadie asked hopefully, tinkering with the clasp on Addison's shoe.

"No…I've got to stay, and so does Dad, so you're going to go to Savvy's for tonight." Addison informed her, regret dripping from each word. There was nothing she wanted more than to take Sadie home and tuck her in at that moment. Especially when she watched her daughter's face quiver ever so slightly.

"Why can't I stay?"

"Because, Sadie, we've been over this—this is a hospital, and you can't just run around…" Addison began, easing herself to sit next to Sadie.

"I'm not! I'm with Meredith!"

Who was not looking to piss off Addison Shepherd.

So she spoke quickly, "Oh, uh, Sadie, you should really listen to your mom."

"Yes, Sadie. Meredith isn't a babysitter. She's got work to do, too." Addison continued, with an appreciative glance at Meredith.

"No she doesn't!" Sadie persisted. "Dr. Bailey just came and told her they were going to go look for a hotel once she cleaned up! They've got nothing to do!"

"But we can't very well ask her to stay at the hospital just to keep you company, can we?"

"No…she could just take me home. I could tell them how to get there." Sadie decided, beaming with pride of her easy solution.

"Sadie—Meredith and Dr. Bailey have a hotel. They have a reason for being in New York that doesn't involve you."

"But they lost their hotel reservations!"

Addison finally turned to Meredith. "Did you?"

Meredith shrugged, trying to play it down. "We were reserved for the Jolly Madison, but since we never got to check-in and so many planes were grounded and people were scrambling for rooms…"

"Have you found one yet?"

"Not yet."

"See, Mom!" Sadie prodded Addison with her hand.

"Even still…"

"I really don't want to impose, Addison. I'm sure we'll find something." Meredith scanned the book for the next call.

"But our brownstone is huge. And free." Sadie continued devilishly.

"How would you feel about staying in our house for the night, Meredith?" Addison asked suddenly. Meredith's face flushed. Bailey would kill her.

"Please, no, that would be an incredible imposition!"

"No, actually, at this point it would help. Incredibly." Addison said with a light glare at her prodding daughter.

"Well, I still…I don't want to…It's so generous…"

"Not really, just a tiny repayment for all you did for my daughter—today and last year." Addison told her meaningfully.

"Well," Meredith wasn't getting out of this. "I suppose if you really don't mind…"

"Yay!" Sadie exclaimed, bouncing to her feet.

"No, I don't. You and Dr. Bailey are welcome to utilize our house. Sadie can get you there, and show you the extra rooms." Addison assured her, standing.

"It's really nice—there's even a green room! That's her favorite color, Mom." Sadie informed Addison excitedly, who could only smile.

"Oh it is? Well then Meredith can have the green room." She checked her watch, and groaned. "I've got to do my post-ops now. Thank you, Meredith."

"No, Addison, thank you, so much."

"All right, honey, I will see you later. Take Madison when you get a cab. I put money in your bag." She kissed the dark crown of Sadie's head.

"Okay, Mom. I love you." Sadie said when she wrapped her arms around Addison's waist.

"I love you, too. Now go!" she shooed them off.

With that, Meredith and Sadie left to find Miranda.

Addison begrudgingly returned to her desk, and went to work on her post ops.

After about two hours and a lot of black coffee, when she was just wrapping up, a voice brought her from her concentration.

"Are you almost ready to go?" Derek was in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His appearance—the easy lean, the lopsided smile, the distracting eyes, and please-run-your-fingers-through-me hair--would have driven her normally to distraction. Instead, she flicked her eyes to him briefly as she leaned back and began pulling her hair up.

"Yes." He moved over the threshold, shut the door, and walked to the front of her desk.

"Can we talk?"

"Not right now. I'm tired." She rejected the ponytail, yanking it from her hair and standing, collecting things and tossing them into her bag.

"Too tired to talk?" He asked, imploring her with pointed meaning from across the desk.

"No. Too tired to fight. And that's where this is leading." With a smooth flourish, she spun around and sat on the lip of her desk with her back to him to adjust her hair in the mirror. Biting his lip, he moved around the desk.

"I just want to apologize." He began, standing in front of her and reaching for her free hand that was just about to wind into her hair.

"I don't want to hear you apologize for something you're not sorry for." She said evenly, yanking her hand away.

"Please, don't do this. Just listen, just for a minute…"

"No, Derek." She snapped, "I don't want an empty apology. If that is how you felt, that's how you felt." With that, she attempted to blow by him, but he moved quicker, effectively pinning her legs in the position and forcing her to remain seated on the desk. He rested his palms on either sides of her hips and fixed his eyes directly on hers.

"Stop telling me what I think, feel, and am or am not sorry for! Like me, you also do not know everything. So just listen." He demanded in a low voice, his eyes flashing with impatience and hers dark with frustration at the lack of escape.

"Let me up! I don't—Hello, Holly." She switched suddenly in her voice at the sight of her physician's assistant as she appeared behind Derek, but her face was still flushed. And Derek still had her pinned in a very compromising looking position.

"Hi, Dr. Shepherd, and uh, Dr. Shepherd…is this a bad time?" the petite blonde asked timidly, with a speculative look that made Derek back up and let Addison stand. She didn't know they had been fighting instead of beginning some sexual encounter, and even if she had, she would tell the nurses later that Dr. Derek Shepherd had Dr. Addison Shepherd half-naked atop that desk. Much more interesting.

Plus, the two things did appear very similar when it came to the two of them.

"Ye—," Derek began in response to her question, only to be promptly cut off by Addison.

"No. Come in." she greeted, smiling sweetly at Holly and then at Derek, who ground his teeth. Addison ignored it, and Derek begrudgingly sat in the chair behind her desk as she stood beside him.

"I just wanted to give you these final charts." Holly explained, frowning inwardly at the strange chemistry between them. Addison seemed completely placid, and Derek seemed to be seething with…something. Certainly anger. But why? Holly could only imagine.

"Let me take a look." Addison said easily, her voice free of the tension and anger of only moments before that only Derek knew about. He bristled, his anger still very near the surface. She shouldn't have been able to just go from Attack Addison to Professional Addison like the former had never even existed. It just wasn't fair.

So beyond Holly's vision, obscured by the desk, he deviously eased his chair closer to where Addison was standing and began what was a very impulsive and reckless plan.

But he couldn't help himself.

"Looks like her iron is still a little low, but I don't want to put her on…" Addison's mouth stopped moving mid-word, but she never took her eyes off of the chart. She did, however, clear her throat in subtle warning.

That didn't deter the hand that was ever so lightly drawing circles on the back of her knee. In fact, that only made it travel upward.

Addison pressed her lips together in a tight smile, and looked up deliberately into Holly's probing eyes.

"I don't…don't want her on any iron supplements yet. The clotting risk is too high. But if her iron does get too low, put her on just…" when the hand traveled just past the open lip in the slit of her skirt, she took a needed second to regroup.

"…Just two half-doses. Also, check and make sure the stitching doesn't collect any kind of congealment, either." He had lazily circled his way up the back of her thigh to the top of her stockings, tracing the edge of the lace and her skin just beyond it. Much to her chagrin and his incredible satisfaction, she involuntarily pressed her teeth into her bottom lip.

"If that happens, give her coagulants, and if it persists, page me." She concentrated on breathing. Derek's anger had evaporated. He was smiling like a devilish child getting away with something wicked.

"Okay. And should I keep the antibiotics Dr. Sloane prescribed for the facial lacerations as they are?"

"Yes." Addison managed, never averting her eyes from Holly, who, very aware of a strange standoff between the Shepherds, only nodded.

"Okay. I think that's all."

"Great. Wonderful. Page me if there's a…problem." Addison smiled a toothy smile, and Holly nodded again.

"Okay, I will. Good night, Doctors."

"Good night, Holly." Derek replied sweetly, flattening his palm against the back of Addison's thigh for what he knew was going to be his last sweep. He slid it across her skin slowly, and was just about to remove it when she whirled on him.

Expecting her to scream, slap, or do something else painful to him, Derek braced himself on the back of the chair, his mouth in a smirk.

"So, what were we talking about—,"

He didn't finish the thought, because before he could, Addison was on his lap, her hands balled in the front of his shirt dragging him forward, and her mouth taking very ruthless possession of his. He couldn't even be shocked—she immediately and fully overwhelmed his senses. The intoxicating sensation and demanding motions of her mouth against his rendered him immobile.

Eventually, he did manage to move his hands to the sides of her hips and attempt to pull her closer, but then, she very quickly extracted herself from his lap. In those few moments, she had become heated, and when her body lifted off of his, it left him cold, wanting more.

"You should know better than to start something like that without finishing." She informed him simply with an infuriatingly cool expression, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. "Are you ready to go?"

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**I was hoping that a super-long chapter would make up for my otherwise unexcuseable delay. Huh? Huh? Hopefully. Ahh well. Here it is. And more to come. Namely, the fluff I've been promising all along.**

**As always, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Stick with me, and of course, tell me what you think!**

** And Happy Birthday M. :)  
**


	6. My Heart Has Started to Separate

They hadn't spoken the entire way home, the walk up the sidewalk into the brownstone, and not even when Derek struggled to unlock the door. When the huge oak barrier gave open and swung wide, revealing the marble foyer, Derek moved to the side, allowing Addison to enter first.

Without a word, she moved past him and made her way up the stairs, to the master bathroom.

After undressing and allowing the water to heat to the point of scalding, Addison eased herself under the spray, and for a long while, simply leaned against the glass, allowing the tension and exhaustion to be pounded from her body by the surge of water.

Fatigue was a normal occurrence for pregnant women. She knew this—both from her previous pregnancy, as well as more than a decade of being a neonatal surgeon. But the exhaustion that had a grip on her was so profound, she felt just by standing that she was wedged in a vice, and the only thing to provide her any relief would be to become prostrate for a long, long period of time.

After pulling herself from her trance long enough to actually bathe, Addison stepped out of the shower, dried herself off, and padded into her and Derek's bedroom, in search of the most comfortable and warmest thing she could find.

Decision? A pair of Derek's old pajama pants from med school that were, despite his denial, far too small on him, and a baggy, long-sleeved tee shirt.

After climbing into _that_ haute couture, Addison towel dried her hair, and as she was passing back into the bathroom from the bedroom, she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. The sight of herself caused her to pause.

With her makeup scrubbed off, her hair darkened by the moisture and swinging crazily in wavy tangles, and her feet bare, cushioned only by the carpet, she looked totally unlike herself. But as she stepped closer, she realized that idea didn't upset her. She was totally unlike herself—but she was incredibly comfortable. She wasn't focused on her posture, on keeping her clothes straight, or on balancing on her shoes. She was just…her.

Lowering her towel to the ground, she edged even closer to the mirror and pulled the lip of her shirt up slightly, revealed her slightly rounded stomach.

"There you are." She whispered, addressing the baby she had known about for two months but had hardly acknowledged until that day.

She furrowed her brows as she studied her stomach. Under her clothing, it hadn't been noticeable, and she probably could have gotten away with another month. But now, as she studied it, and turned to the side to examine it in profile, she realized just how pronounced it was.

"The difference between being 28 and pregnant and 38 and pregnant." She observed with an eyebrow raise. She ran her palm lightly across the bump, and then back, stopping to rest it over the center. She held her breath for a moment, and tried to discern the independent heartbeat.

It was medically an impossibility for her to detect it unaided, but she attempted to anyway. Even after all the years she had spent in her field, pregnancy itself fascinated her like nothing else. Even though she knew every angle, aspect, and secret of it, the actual state of being pregnant still maintained a mysterious, almost magical quality.

And at the moment, Addison wasn't thinking as Dr. Montgomery-Shepherd, examining a patient fifteen weeks pregnant. She was Addison, trying to feel her son's heartbeat.

"Addie?"

Addison nearly jumped out of her skin, as she whirled around to see Derek, standing in the doorway, his face unreadable. Addison opened her mouth, which involuntarily shaped into a surprised _O _shape, and then closed it.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know I'm going to be a father, again." He tilted his head, his eyes dancing.

"How can you just assume—," she began, sheepishly slipping the shirt back down to cover her stomach. Derek laughed at her as he came to her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Because I haven't seen you so closely examine your stomach like that since Sadie, and then I started putting it all together," he spoke excitedly into her hair, and then pulled away to cup her face. "I can't believe it, this is fantastic." He kissed her lovingly, and when he pulled back, the absolute joy in his eyes brought tears to hers.

"I'm…I'm glad you feel that way," she managed, smiling over the tears. He laughed again, and swiped at her tears.

"Of course I do! Did you think I'd be upset?"

"No…"

"Good. Because I'm not. I'm thrilled." He looked quickly to the bed, "here, sit down and tell me the details."

Addison allowed him to lead her to the bed, and be seated.

"So how far along are you?" he asked excitedly. She averted her eyes to her hands.

"Fifteen weeks."

The excitement in his eyes remained, but his face slipped.

"Wow. When did you find out?"

Addison slowly turned her head to meet his questioning gaze.

"About nine weeks ago."

He frowned.

"Why…why didn't you tell me?"

Addison shook her head.

"I don't know."

She looked away again as tears threatened to spill over, but Derek caught her chin and held her gaze.

"Hey, what is it?" he asked gently, "Are you not…are you not happy?"

Addison sniffled a small sob.

"I don't know. I was so surprised, at first; I thought…it was just a scare. And then everything started happening, and it turned out not to be a scare, but I was so busy…"

"Hey, hey, Addie…relax, you're babbling." He said with a half-smile. She pressed her lips together in a small smile.

"I'm…sorry." She took a breath. "I am happy. I am happy we're having another baby, and Sadie will have a little brother…"

"It's a boy?" Derek said with obvious delight. Addison rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you have an heir." She had to smile at his irrepressible smile, and then got serious. "But honestly, Derek, there was a reason I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone."

He schooled his features, and nodded. "What was it?"

"I don't know what this will mean. For me, for my…career."

He frowned again.

"What do you mean? We do fine with Sadie…"

Addison cut him off.

"Fine, Derek? We don't do fine with Sadie. We _manage_. There's a huge difference, and it exhausts me." She expelled a harsh breath. Derek sat back.

"Are you saying you didn't want to have the baby?"

"No!" Addison attested, crossing her arms.

"Are you saying you want to quit your job?"

"No!" she replied just as forcefully.

"Then _what? _We could always hire a nanny." He reasoned, but she pounced.

"We decided when Sadie was born we wouldn't do that!"

"That was ten years ago, Addison! Things change!"

"That much?"

"If they have to." Derek noticed she had edged away from him, and put his hands on her hips to tug her closer. "It doesn't make us bad parents if we hired someone to help out."

Addison nodded silently, and Derek wound his arm around her shoulder.

"Don't just nod at me, Addie. Believe it, because it's true."

When the tears came this time, she didn't move to hide them, and he didn't try to stop them.

"I just don't want to be one of those parents, Derek. The kind I see all the time, who work to have this perfect life, and don't realize that they've let their children become just another cool accessory they own to complete the picture."

"Hey! We have never been those parents, Addison!" Derek kissed her damp cheek. "We never claimed or tried to be perfect."

She snorted. "That is true."

"Seriously. Sadie has everything she needs, and most of what she wants…"

"Things, Derek. Things."

"I wasn't finished! But what really counts, what really matters, is that when we're dead, and Sadie thinks back about us, she will never for a moment be able to doubt that we loved her, more than anything—each other, our careers, anything. And that's what it comes down to. And it will be the same for this…our son." He seemed to glow with pride when he said it. Addison smiled now, not because she had to, but because she couldn't help it.

"I hope you're still this optimistic in a month or two when you're out in the snow getting me pistachio ice cream and tacos at four am, or a year from now when he's got his fists full of your hair." She warned, half-teasingly. He kissed her nose chastely.

"I love pistachio ice cream, and I could use a haircut anyway. Mark will get off my back."

Addison touched his hair with a fleeting, featherlike touch.

"I don't know…it's nice."

"You just like it because it reminds you of Russell Crowe."

"Well, I did always have a thing for him…"

"Jeez. First I had to compete with George Clooney's chin, now Russell Crowe's hair…" Derek began kissing her cheek, and then as he slid down the side of her neck and she giggled, he whispered, "I'll just have to make you forget about them."

"I don't know," she managed amongst laughter, as he became more aggressive, "That'd be pretty hard—Ah!"

An hour later, she couldn't have picked George or Russell out of a line-up.

Nestled with her head fitted perfectly in the crook of Derek's shoulder, she allowed herself to remain still and her eyes closed, as he tugged the plushy comforter around her.

"There you go." He whispered softly, kissing her nose again and smiling down at her. She smiled slowly, like a cat, and squinted up at him.

"What?" he asked confused and slightly worried.

"…Nothing." She changed her mind and shut her eyes.

"Hey, no. You don't get to look at me like that and not tell me what it was about!" he prodded, nudging her bare rib with his hand. She snickered.

"I was just thinking about how we're going to tell Sadie."

Derek frowned, missing the conclusion she had reached. "You don't think she'll be happy?"

"No, not that. God knows, she's wanted a brother or sister since she was three. I meant more…what it will have to lead to. Telling her."

"What will it lead to? I don't follow your female logic."

"Derek, she's ten, almost eleven. She's in fifth grade."

"So…"

"So, being an intelligent, perceptive fifth grader, what question could potentially follow "We're having a baby"?"

Derek frowned, and pondered. For too long. Addison rolled her eyes.

"Derek, we're going to have to tell her where babies come from!"

She might as well have punched him.

"Why?" he managed hoarsely. Addison was incredibly amused by his sudden horror, but kept the sentiment to herself.

"Because, despite what you or Mark would like to believe, she is not a baby anymore. She's going to find out, and soon, so wouldn't it make more sense and make you feel better if you knew she was getting correct, medical information from us?"

"But…why can't we wait until…I don't know…she gets her…you know…"

"Period, Dr. Shepherd."

"Ah! Addison, don't!" he cringed, pressing his eyes together and kneading them with his hand. Now she did laugh.

"Seriously, Derek? You can't even say it?"

"Of course I can say it!" he protested, with a miserable sigh. "I just don't want to think about it…with her."

Since his distress was tangible, Addison wiggled upward and kissed his cheek consolingly.

"I'm sorry, honey, but it's going to happen. And it's important that she get the right information early, so she's not confused or mislead later!"

He heaved another sigh, but nodded. "You're right." Then he turned to her. "So when are you going to tell her?"

Addison's mouth dropped open.

"_We _will tell her in a day or two, when we don't have houseguests."

Derek's mortification returned.

"We?"

"Yes, we. This isn't the 1950s. Fathers play a pivotal, active role in family life now."

"But, but isn't that more of a female-to-female thing?"

"It could be, but don't you want Sadie to feel she can talk about that sort of thing with you?"

"No!" he exclaimed, but Addison elbowed him.

"Yes you do, because just like Sadie is going to grow up, someday you will too!" she informed him with a stern voice and amusement in her eyes.

"I am grown up. I just…I won't know what to say. I've never done this before." He muttered. Addison laid her head on his arm, and looked up at him.

"Well, it won't be so bad. Who told you about sex?"

"Oh no!" Derek reacted physically, sitting up. "We're not going there."

Intrigued, Addison grabbed his chin.

"Derek Michael Shepherd, you will tell me!" she demanded, as he shook his head vehemently.

"No, Addison, I won't!" He yanked her on top of him, and tried to distract her by kissing her. After a moment, she pushed his face far enough away to look into his eyes.

"It can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Was it your mother?" she asked, thinking of his father's death when Derek was eight. He laughed and shook his head.

"No way. She was very old fashioned about that."

"Then who? Mark?" Addison asked with a grin.

"No, I managed to unveil the secret of sex before I was 19, thanks." He tickled her as punishment for the insinuation.

"Well, tell me! I want to know what I'm working with!" she asked, pillowing her chin on her hands, which were folded over his chest. He sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Nancy told me."

Addison's eyebrows shot up.

"Really? How did _that _go?"

"This is horrible. I can't believe I'm telling you."

"Derek, twelve years of marriage! How bad could it be?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes. "I was sixteen when she told me…after finding me with my girlfriend at the time."

Addison's eyes popped open.

"Finding you, as in…"

"As in, _finding _me. Us, really. The first time, too, for me."

"Oh my God…" Addison covered her mouth with her hand, but the snicker was unmistakable. He pulled her upward.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you!"

"No, no, it's not funny!" she managed to control herself. "What…what did she say?"

"Well…nothing at first. She opened my bedroom door, stood there long enough so I saw her and well…stopped. Cat Dempsey, my girlfriend, screamed and dressed faster than I ever saw a human do before and bolted. So I sat, half dressed on my bed, just about to die from embarrassment, when Nancy comes back…with a box of condoms from her college girl stash."

Addison bit her lip not to giggle. "And then?"

"And then, she looked around for Cat and said, 'You didn't have to stop, I just wanted to make sure you had some armor to go with that sword'."

"That…sounds like Nancy."

"Yeah. Sure does. So she handed me the box, patted my head, and left." He finished dejectedly, sliding his eyes to Addison, who was grinning ear-to-ear. "You can't find this amusing!"

"I don't!" she protested. "I just…am proud. You've got considerable skill, considering you were, oh, shall we say, self-taught?"

Derek threw his head back.  
"You're an evil woman."

"But you love me. And it wasn't that bad!" she assured him.

"Oh, it was at the time." He peered at her. "I suppose yours was incredibly proper?"

She nodded with a sigh. "There were charts."

"Leave it to Thomas Montgomery to be thorough." He murmured.

"Well, since I have the better experience, I'll do the initial talk."

"And I'll sit there quietly? Good." Derek stated with a smile.

"No, Dr. Shepherd, you will field any questions she has."

His face went pale.

"Oh God. Questions? No. No! That's definitely more…female-to-female."

Addison chewed her lip.

"I guess you're right. Okay, You give the initial explanation, and I'll answer the questions."

"Deal. Can we go to bed now? Before you suggest something drastic, like taking her shopping for a bra?"

Addison looked away.

"Addison! What!?"

"Oh relax, Derek, it's a training bra!" Addison returned, but Derek pulled her closer and closed his eyes.

"I always liked the proverb about ignorance being bliss, Addie. Sometimes, it _is_ true."

* * *

"What are you doing awake, Grey?"

Miranda's voice from down the darkened second-floor hallway startled Meredith to the point where she almost spilled the drink she was carrying. She regrouped, and turned from her destination, her bedroom, which lay down the corridor a good ten feet more.

"Just getting a drink from the kitchen." She replied, watching as Miranda emerged from the shadow. Like Meredith, she was wearing a guest robe provided in the bathroom attached to her bedroom, and she looked…restless.

"What's in the glass?" she asked curiously. Meredith smiled, embarrassed.

"Chocolate milk." Not exactly a dignified beverage, especially since it was crudely mixed Hershey's chocolate syrup and whole milk. Addison had told her when she had called to help herself to anything in the kitchen, but this particular concoction had been a result of the Sadie's insistence. After she had gone to bed, the child in Meredith craved more.

Miranda peered at the glass.

"Any more milk left down there?" she asked, and Meredith nodded.

"I'll—I'll show you."

A few minutes later, Meredith found herself in the most surreal scene. Barefoot, swaddled in bathrobes, in the multi-million dollar brownstone of Derek and Addison Shepherd, she and Miranda Bailey were making homemade chocolate milk.

Once they both mixed their syrup to the desire consistency and began drinking, a slightly awkward silence overcame them. Only for a moment, though, before Miranda broke it.

"You know, my mother used to make this for me as a treat when I was a kid."

Meredith smiled, more at ease.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Miranda mused. "Actual chocolate milk was more expensive, I guess, or something. But it was my special treat." She took another gulp.

"Sounds nice." Meredith said. Miranda nodded.

"It was." She slowly swirled the glass. "It will always remind me of her."

With that, Meredith looked down into her drink.

"Are you okay, Meredith?" Miranda asked gently, very out of the "Bailey" character. Meredith nodded.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"You sure?" Miranda asked again, her eyes friendly.

"Yeah. I was just thinking of my mom."

"Ah," Miranda said with a respectful tone, "The famous Dr. Ellis Grey."

"Yeah, that's her." Meredith murmured. She was jarred when Miranda put a hand on hers.

"It must have been hard." She said simply. Meredith took a long moment before she responded.

"At times. But I loved her."

"And you know what? She loved you, too. We mothers can't help it, surgeons or not."

* * *

"Here, turn your wrist—like that. You want to cut at an angle, so the pieces are uniform."

"Like this?"

"Yes. Slow down, it's not a race. Precision is important. There. Perfect." Derek backed away from Sadie, who was standing at the cutting board on a stool, splicing away at an unfortunate banana. The mp3 player on a dock nearby filled the kitchen with the silky voice of Frank Sinatra, and the early-morning sun poured its white light into the room, bathing the occupants in its warmth and promise.

With a swell of pride, Derek observed, "You hold your knife like I do."

"Oh. That's why I'm perfect?" Sadie replied sweetly.

Derek shook his head as he leaned against the counter, "Smart…aleck. Just like your mother."

Who he had allowed to sleep in while he and Sadie made breakfast for her and their guests. One of which walked into the room sleepily, to see Derek with one eye on his operating daughter and the other on the simmering batter on the stove.

"I know I'm in a house of surgeons when this is considered bonding." Meredith remarked with a twinkle in her eye. Derek winked, and peered at Sadie's progress as he crossed his arms.

"Sure is. Sadie, what did I tell you—_angle _the blade." He instructed. Sadie waved him off.

"I'm trying something new. They'll call it the Sadie Shepherd Method."

He raised an eyebrow as she continued. "Hack and saw?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "You're funny, Dad. For an old guy."

Ignoring the deliberately inflammatory jab, Derek smiled sweetly at Meredith as she seated herself on a stool at the island across from him. "Meredith—what fruit do you want in your pancakes?"

"What are my options?" she asked, scanning the array of ingredients Derek had bought at the corner store and then flooded the counters with.

"We have—bananas, which my daughter is in the process of slashing to bits, strawberries, blueberries, oranges, or cherries." He offered, nodding around to the variety.

"Oranges? I never heard of that."

"It's my favorite!" Sadie chimed in from the cutting board.

"Then it must be good. I'll go with that." Meredith decided with a smile.

As Derek collected two of his oranges, Sadie laid her knife down, climbed from the stool, and tugged on his elbow.

"Dad, I'm tired of cutting bananas. Can I cut Meredith's oranges?"

"Oh, I don't know." Derek said gravely, setting the oranges down as the opening bars of "The Way You Look Tonight" began. "That's a whole other beast. I think your hands need a break first—may I have this dance!" He held out a hand to his daughter, who giggled silly as she clutched it with her much smaller one.

"Okay!"

With that, much to Sadie's (and Meredith's) delight, he pulled her up onto the tops of his bare feet, and in their pajamas with their wild bed head, he danced the two of them around the tiled floor with incredible ease and exaggerated grandeur.

"_Lovely, don't you ever change…"_ Derek sang along at the end, and Sadie squealed with laughter as he picked her up and dipped her slowly by Meredith's stool, so she smiled up at Meredith upside down.

Meredith couldn't help but laugh as Derek eased Sadie back up to a standing position and the song ended. It wasn't because of her amusement or the humor of the scene, but because she felt that warmth one inevitably feels when they are in the presence of love and felt compelled to laugh.

"Well, good morning! Is the next number lady's choice?" Miranda asked as she entered the kitchen. Derek smiled charmingly.  
"Sure, there is enough of me to go around." He held out a hand, but she shook her head and smiled, seating herself beside Meredith.

Now in custody of the oranges and a new knife, Sadie addressed Miranda over her shoulder, "What do you want on your pancakes, Dr. Bailey?"

"What service! I like mine with butter and powdered sugar, if it's available." She told her, as Derek put two coffee mugs before her and Meredith.

"Definitely. That's what my mom likes the best, too." Sadie replied, struggling with the orange. Sensing a potential danger, Derek easily freed the knife from her grasp, and rolled the orange away.

"Speaking of, why don't you go get her, Sadie? She'll want pancakes when they're done."

"Okay." With a flourish, which appeared even more adorable when she did so in her colorful little girl pajamas, Sadie bound from the kitchen.

Derek put the oranges aside a moment and grabbed the coffee pot to fill the mugs in front of Miranda and Meredith. When he finished, he asked, "What can I put in it?"

"I like mine light, no sugar." Meredith replied. Derek retrieved the cream and sugar for her, and turned to Miranda, who answered, "Black, for me."

"Cowboy coffee? I only drink that after at least thirty hours of a shift." Derek observed, turning to his own mixture.

"I actually like it. Much less complicated, very straight to the point." Miranda informed him, and he chuckled.

"My wife and I should definitely start drinking it, then." The timer went off, and Derek turned to flip the pancakes.

"Can I help?" Meredith offered, moving from her seat.

"Sure, if you could just grab those bananas…" she handed them to him, and stood beside him as he plopped them into the half-cooked batter and flipped the pancake.

"I don't suppose you do this every Saturday?" she asked, inhaling the scent.

"No, but I should, I think."

"Definitely," Miranda replied. "And if you ever consider relocating to Seattle, you're welcome to do it in my home any day of the week. I'll pay well."

Derek looked up, smiling. "With the market as it is, I may take you up on that."

As they shared a friendly laugh, Sadie reappeared in the doorway, rather pale. Derek looked at her quickly, noticed her pallor, and turned back.

"What's the matter, baby?"

All eyes turned to the child in the doorway as she said,

"Something's…something's wrong with Mom."

* * *

**First, I apologize for taking FOREVER with the updates. Not my fault! Finals plague me.  
Second, I am aware that parts (or…all) of this chapter were saccharinely sweet. No defense for that, aside from Addek is being beaten out of current canon, so I had to make up for it doubly in my fanon. So there you go. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Oh yes, and stick around! Another chapter to come, someday sooner than this, hopefully. **


	7. Steady, love

"Dad?"

He didn't move.

Sadie shifted her weight uncomfortably, and tried again.

"Dad?"

He didn't move, but the words "What is it, baby?" floated up from where he had his head cradled in his hands. Sadie chewed on her lip.

"I know this is kind of a bad time, but can I go get something to eat downstairs?"

Slowly, Derek brought his hands down from his face and let them lay slack on his thighs. He looked at Sadie in a way that frightened her, mostly because he looked so frightened. They were alone in his office after Dr. Bailey and Meredith had left, and until Sadie spoke, it had been silent.

"That's…fine. Just come right back up here after." He said softly, the distress and fear in his eyes never wavering. Sadie wanted to cry, so much so that her chest felt tight and her throat burned, but she decided that wouldn't help. Derek scrubbed at his face with his hands, and then averted his gaze out the window at the infinite city light below. So she swallowed, and turned as quickly as she could.

She made it about halfway down the corridor before the tears began running down her cheeks.

When she reached the elevator and depressed the down button, she stared intently at her reflection in the metal doors. It was slightly distorted and smudged, but she didn't care, because she couldn't see it. All she wanted to do was get away: get away from the surgical floor, away from that fear in her father's eyes.

After a few moments she averted her gaze from the doors to watch the round indicators above the doors as they lit in descending order, slowly blinking their way to the indicator with a 4 in the center.

When they finally opened, she was just about to step in when two nurses walked by and she heard mention of her mother's name.

Because they were whispering and had already walked by before she noticed, she could only catch a few words.

"Hemorrhage," "transfusion," "pre-term," and "fetal distress" was all she could catch after her mother's name. Fortunately, and _unfortunately, _they were all words she had heard before, mostly from her mother.

So instead of hitting the Ground floor button, Sadie hit the 7th floor button and took a deep breath as the elevator ascended.

As the doors slid almost ceremoniously open to reveal the neo-natal and maternity ward, Sadie clandestinely poked her head past the gaping mouth of the elevator and looked around. All that were present aside from the patients were two orderlies at the end of the hallway, and a nurse, who was on the telephone at a desk nearby filing her nails.

No one was supposed to be up here, she knew, but apparently security wasn't that tight. She crept along the wall, never averting her eyes from the distracted nurse, even when she stood up on her tiptoes to read the name of the patient on the chart.

She made it to the end of the hall, with no luck, and peered across the nurse's station at the two rooms remaining in the ward. She couldn't make it past the station without notifying the nurse of her presence, and getting caught snooping around would more than likely just upset her father even more.

Resolved, Sadie pouted slightly and turned to make her way back, when a voice spoke her name and made her freeze in her tracks.

"Sadie." Holly Carlisle said again when Sadie didn't respond. Sighing, Sadie turned to face the blonde.

"I'm sorry." She murmured sadly, on the brink of tears. "I was just…looking for my mom."

Expecting some sort of verbal admonishment and prompt removal, Sadie was startled when Holly smiled. Though, it was distinctly a smile of sadness.

"Well, if I take you to her, you can't tell anyone, and you have to be very quiet, okay?" Holly negotiated. Sadie nodded emphatically.

Holly looked around a bit, then silently gestured for Sadie to follow her.

They made their way across the taupe linoleum stealthily, towards the two rooms across from the nurses' station. Holly paused at the second door, looked around again, and then eased it open.

"Just a couple of minutes, okay, Sadie?" she whispered, and Sadie nodded.

When she entered the darkened room, the only thing louder than her own heartbeat in her ears was the sound of the heart monitor that glowed by the window. It had two green lines instead of one, which was odd, but Sadie didn't notice.

There was one light, a tiny little nightlight of sorts, plugged in next to the bed. It cast a weak yellow hue over Addison, as she lay on her side in the bed.

Her eyes were closed, and Sadie knew it was wrong, but in that moment she wanted nothing more than to wake her.

She looked pale, paler that ever, just as she had that morning, when Sadie had bound up the stairs into her parents bedroom. She had said "Mom!" a hundred times, at least, and when garnered with no response, she jumped into bed with Addison, who had been lying exactly like she was at the moment.

"_Mom!_ Wake up! Dad's actually cooking!" she had prodded with delight. When again Addison didn't roll over or even speak, Sadie was about to reach over and muss her mother's hair when she felt the sticky heat through the blankets. Instead of her mother's hair, she tugged the tangled blankets up and saw the moisture to be blood. Her mother's blood.

In the movies she'd always seen, when the dumb characters accidentally stumble upon the bloody gore, they scream. But as she thought about it, she didn't scream at all. She had been too scared. She had felt on the outside like she was in a movie, but she knew if it was a movie, she would have screamed. The fact that she couldn't find her voice until she was downstairs scared her even more.

As she watched her mother sleep, now, she didn't stifle the little sobs that came out. She simply stood next to the bed, gently stroking Addison's hair with feather-light touches.

"Mom…" she whispered. But she didn't speak again. As much as she wanted to wake her mother up, just to hear her voice and see her eyes again, she didn't.

But after a few moments, Addison's eyes fluttered open. Sadie held her breath.

"Sadie?" Addison mumbled, weakly rubbing her face.

"Yeah…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep, Mom." Sadie implored through her tears. Becoming aware of her daughter's distress, even in her depleted state, Addison reached out and put her arm around Sadie.

"Honey, it's okay. Don't cry." She assured her, rubbing her back. But the sound of her voice, paper-thin and soft, made Sadie cry harder and mutter, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Finally, to end the crying, Addison edged back into the bed and tugged Sadie onto it.

"Honey, stop crying. You're going to make me cry," Addison whispered into Sadie's hair as she tucked her head under Addison's chin. Her effort to stop crying succeeded moments later.

As a small silence stretched out, Addison continued to run her fingers through Sadie's hair.

Finally recovered, Sadie was the first to speak.

"What happened, Mom?"

Addison closed her eyes. "I'm a little sick."

"That's what Dad said. But what are you sick with?"

"It's a lot of ugly medical words." Addison assured her, thinking of how foreign they had sounded when they had been explained to her, even though she used them several times a day. Of course, this had been a slightly exigent circumstance.

"Well…are you going to be okay?" Sadie's voice brought her back and she began to drift away. The blood loss had taken a toll on her ability to stay conscious.

"I…will be fine." She hoped sound had accompanied the motions of her mouth, but she couldn't be sure. A chill had settled over her, but she still felt the warmth radiating from Sadie.

"I'm scared. So is Dad. Real bad." Sadie muttered into Addison's chest.

"You don't have to be. This…this happens." Addison stopped fighting the pull for her to drift away. "Honey, I'm going…"

Sadie sat up. "Where?"

Addison forced her eyes to open. Sadie's face was only a few inches from hers, searching hers for answers, comfort, anything Addison could offer.

She took a long look at her daughter. Even though she was almost eleven, nearly a teenager, with long, layered hair and distinctly grown up features, in that moment Addison could see the face of the baby would looked up at her for the first time so long ago.

She had been so afraid during her pregnancy that she wouldn't feel a connection with her baby. Not until it could at least speak. How else could she connect with it? She never told anyone, even Derek, about this theory. She was still happy to have a baby, she just didn't picture herself as being one of those mothers who said, "The minute I saw him/her, I was in love!"

But, to her incredible surprise and awe, the moment the nurse laid Sadie's little squirming form onto Addison's chest and those blue eyes had struggled open and peered up at her, she felt everything, all at once. The connection, the love, and the responsibility. Only a few minutes old and not even aware of herself, Sadie had been searching Addison's face, looking, waiting. Aside from the essentials, like food and protection and comfort, Addison had seen a whole lot more in Sadie's expectant expression. She was waiting for Addison to show her everything—how to live, how to laugh, how to cry, how to be a good person, how to do _everything_. This new person had no idea how to do any of those things, and it was Addison's job to see to it that she found out. That responsibility, she discovered, was the greatest and most fragile one parents assumed.

As her eyelids became heavy and lowered slowly, blotting out the current image of Sadie, Addison hoped she had done a good enough job.

* * *

**Okay…don't be too angry with me yet!**


	8. Cause I'll Look After You

_One Year Later._

* * *

"Switzerland?" 

"Yeah."

"That's in Europe."

"Yeah."

"What's the capital of it?"

"Uh…I'm not sure."

Sadie put her hot dog back into its paper cradle, which was perilously balanced on her lap, and began leafing through her class notebook. As he finished his own mustard-drenched lunch, Derek laughed at the concentration in her furrowed brow as she ran her finger down the page, collecting a small smudge of graphite dust on her fingertip.

"Berne!" she pronounced proudly. "Is that where you're going?"

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

"Just a few days."

"And Angela is going to be at the house before and after school and stuff?"

"Yes. And Mark will probably come over some."

"And when you get back, we'll go to Frank's and pick up that puppy?" Sadie asked, batting her eyelashes at Derek.

"I said we'll _talk _about it when I get back."

"Why have that weighing on your mind, though? Don't you have more important stuff to think about while you're over there? Why not just settle it now?" she reasoned sweetly.

Derek regarded her with a smile.

"Nicely argued."

Sadie waited silently.

"Fine." He said after a sigh. "When I get back, we'll pick up the puppy."

"Yes!" Sadie squealed, jumping on Derek. "Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, baby." Squinting against the afternoon sun as it reflected brightly off of the snow that protectively blanketed Central Park a few days prior, Derek looked down at his watch.

"Hey, it's almost one. We need to get home." He informed Sadie as he stood. In a swift gulp, Sadie finished off the hot dog and chucked the wrapper in the garbage can. She bounded after Derek, and came to a halt beside him so quickly her hat slipped from her head a bit.

As she readjusted the hat and tried to do as little damage as possible to her hair, Sadie looked up at her father.

"Are you okay, Dad?" she asked gently. The wind had picked up, and he flipped the collar of his jacket up, so she couldn't see anything but his nose and eyes when he looked down at her.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He paused a moment, and then slung an arm around her shoulders. "I just don't want to go to Switzerland. It's far away."

Sadie nuzzled under his arm. "It's okay. I'm going to be fine. Plus, you're helping Meredith's mom get better. That's important."

Derek nodded silently.

Sadie hated when he got quiet like this. In an effort to get a rise out of him, she said,

"Besides, last time you went away and Mark came over to hang out, he cut me off after two beers."

This at least earned her a chuckle and a small nudge in the head, but for the most part, the chilly walk back to the brownstone was wordless.

When they returned, Sadie hurried up to her bedroom, and soon enough, Derek heard the resonance of one of her favorite, soulful bands as she turned on her computer and undoubtedly began tinkering around on the Internet. With a shake of his head, Derek shrugged off his coat and made his way into his office.

Addison had hated this room. She said it was too rustic, when he first decorated it. He had to admit, that had been his goal. He and Mark had slaved for weeks to put dark oak paneling on the walls and build the various cabinets, he had spent exorbitant amounts of money to buy the huge antique desk and leather furniture, and the paintings and photographs on the wall depicting various aspects of outdoor life were a result of a careful search on his part.

He hadn't understood, at first. It wasn't like he dragged her out into the woods to live in a trailer and eat trout for every meal. It was just a room. But she regarded it with disdain, and it wasn't for a long time until he realized it was mostly an act.

Despite her objections and her assertions otherwise, Addison had some damn cute domestic inclinations, which included cleaning and straightening her husband's "Davy Crockett" office.

After taking a moment to reminisce, Derek plopped down in his leather chair, picked up the phone, and began punching the familiar keys that would digitally connect him to his answering service.

As he was jotting down notes and numbers to call back, the office door squeaked open and Sadie's head popped in.

He motioned for her to wait a minute, and so while he finished the call, she came in and sat on the huge leather chair that was placed across from his desk.

When he finished and hung up, she excitedly asked,

"Can I go to Dana's until dinner? Yes, I did all my homework, and of course, I'll be back before six."

"Sure. What do you want in the way of dinner, anyway?"  
"You can pick, it's your last night."

"All right, sounds like a fair trade. Are you walking to Dana's?"

"She was going to meet me on the corner of 84th."

"Okay. Call me when you get there." He instructed her, and she nodded.

"Sure, Dad." Sadie agreed, and then got up to leave.

"Hey!" Derek stopped her when she got to the door. She turned and watched him expectantly.

"I love you." He said simply. She smiled.

"Love you, too, Dad." She pulled the door open, stepped out, and added, "I'll call you when I get to Dana's."

And she was gone.

Derek watched her go, and sat back thoughtfully.

He had always thought he won the "Who Does the Baby Look more Like" contest when it came to Sadie. As a baby and a little girl, she had his coloring, his eyes, and his smile. But now, as she grew up, not a day went by that she didn't remind him of Addison. Her voice had the same pitch, her mannerisms were identical, and so many other things that sometimes he was almost stopped by it.

As he stood from his desk and made his way out of the office and began ascending the stairs, he figured it was probably for the best. Addison always claimed to be the awkward, gawky teenager, but if that were to befall Sadie, at least she would have something to look forward to.

When he rounded the corner and came to the door of his bedroom, he put a hand on the cool, white wood, and paused.

In that moment, he felt…old. His daughter was a teenager in a few months. He was forty.

Not that he considered the age of 40 to be old, but in that moment, he had become acutely aware of his age, and what exactly that meant.

But as he opened the door, he contemplated those four decades.

So many things had happened, it was an overwhelming thought. So he narrowed it down, and realized that even in the past five years, an incredible amount of things had happened. He had been there for some, and missed others.

He tried to close the door quietly, but as soon as the gold latch snapped into place, a small cry bubbled up from the cradle on the far side of the bed.

"Hey, shh! Shh!" he whispered softly to his fussing son as he lifted him from the cradle.

Derek held Dempsey close to his chest, and the infant groggily rubbed his little fists into his eyes.

"Hey, buddy." Derek greeted once the little boy brought his hands down and fixed his bright green eyes on him. With an excited motion of his hands, Dempsey squealed with delight several times, seemingly speaking his baby gibberish. Derek couldn't help but smile at his son, but he still tried to pacify the baby.

"Come on, now! It can't be that exciting." Derek whispered as he lay Dempsey's head on his shoulder and gently touched the wispy, silky six-month-old red hair that covered his tiny head. It had been so long that he had held a baby, he forgot how warm they were and how they always carried that particular comforting, sweet scent, so as he held Dempsey, he closed his eyes and took both of those sensations in.

It was Addison's voice that brought him back to reality.

"Hi, Derek." She said sleepily as she yawned. Derek turned towards the bed, where she had been lying. He knew she had been up all morning with Dempsey, and that she probably hadn't been napping very long.

"I'm sorry, Addie. I woke him up when I came in."

Wider-awake now, Addison shook her head.

"He was probably awake, anyway. I put him down as soon as you and Sadie left." She motioned for him to come over to the bed, so he brought himself and Dempsey over, and laid them both down across from Addison.

Now nestled between the warmth and scents of his parents, Dempsey smiled even wider and began gurgling to Addison. Not quite a master of crawling, the little boy flipped himself from his back as Derek had laid him onto his stomach, and then propped himself up to be nuzzled by his mother.

"You've got a lot to say today, don't you?" Addison asked him, and then looked over the baby's head to Derek, who was propped up on his side.

"How was ice skating?" she asked as Dempsey flopped back onto his side and began tugging lightly on her hair.

"She loves it." Derek commented, watching Addison extract her hair from the baby's grasp and give him her hand to play with instead.

"She does. I think this is going to mean private lessons, soon." Addison again adjusted Dempsey, who had put his mouth on the underside of her chin and made a strange smacking noise, which delighted him so much he decided to do it several times.

"I'm sure she'd love that. It should be part of her Christmas present." Derek decided.

"Sounds good." Addison agreed as she pulled Dempsey on her stomach so he was seated upright. Transfixed with her face, Dempsey leaned forward and began tugging and rubbing the sides of Addison's face.

"He's going to give you wrinkles." Derek observed lovingly.

"Just like Sadie gave you those grays." Addison returned easily, making an amusing face at the baby as Derek frowned and touched his scalp.

"Very funny."

As if on cue, Dempsey exploded with laughter.

"The boy certainly thinks so." Addison told him as she leaned towards Derek so he could take Dempsey, who had become bored of her and outstretched his arms towards his father. Once in his embrace, the little boy was silent, and simply peered up at his father adoringly.

"Yeah, well, he'll learn where his loyalties are once he doesn't depend on you for…food." Derek said with a wink. Addison rolled her eyes and snuggled closer.

"When does your flight leave?"

"Ten, but I should probably be at the airport around eight."

"That's fine. I'll take you on my way to work." She said, resting her head on the pillow and closing her eyes. Derek ran a hand down her upturned cheek.

"Are you nervous?"

"About what?"

"Going back."

With that, Addison opened her eyes and shrugged. She appeared noncommital, but Derek knew better.

"I don't know. Not really. It'll take some readjusting. A year is a long time."

He nodded, and peered down at Dempsey, who had fallen back asleep.

"It is. I'm sorry I can't take you out for a celebratory lunch."

"That's okay. I actually have a lunch date with Miranda Bailey."

"Really? That's great. Why is she in from Seattle?"

"The Keller-Butler is next weekend, but she extended it into a semi-vacation for her and her husband and their little boy."

"Nice." Derek slowly slid from the bed and padded over to the crib, where he gently placed the sleeping form of his son.

When he returned to bed, he pulled his wife into a comfortable embrace.

"Are you nervous about having Angela here full time, now?" he asked softly, kissing her forehead.

"No. Sadie loves her, and Dempsey has really bonded with her, so there shouldn't be a problem." Addison responded, again trying to appear at ease.

"So you're fine?"

"Yes, Derek, fine."

"Good." He watched her face change, and added, "You know you will never be replaced for them, right?"

Addison opened her eyes, which had fallen closed again. "Of course." She answered, though her voice was a little uneasy.

"Good. Because it's true." He assured her again, letting his eyes close.

"Really, it was you I was worried about. Angela is a cute little thing."

Derek laughed. "I don't much go for skinny blondes."

"Good. Because I'd hate to have to kill her."

Derek shook his head and nudged her nose with his.

"You don't have to be scared, Addison. Of anything. Not that you'll be a bad mother, or you'll miss out or anything. You don't have to be scared even of being scared." He whispered, almost directly into her mouth.

"Why? Because I have Derek Shepherd to save me?" she replied, teasing. He nodded.

"That, and because he has Addison Shepherd to save _him_."

* * *

…**And that's it! Yay for Happy Addek!**

**I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you so so so so so so much for the support and feedback and all of that.**

**Credit: Story title and chapter titles derived from the song "Look After You" by The Fray. Much love. **

'**Til next time**

**xoxo Bleu**


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